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D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  AGENTS,  NEW  YORK 


THE 

LIFE  AND  THE  POETRY  OF 
CHARLES  COTTON 


BY 

CHARLES  JACOB  SEMBOWER 

PROFESSOR  OF  ENGLISH,   INDIANA  UNIVERSITY 


UNIVERSITY  OF  PENNSYLVANIA 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  AGENTS,  NEW  YORK 

1911 


Copyright,  1911 
BY  THE  UNIVERSITY  OP  PENNSYLVANIA 


J.  F.  TAPLEY  CO. 

NCW  YORK 


CONTENTS 

SECTION  PAGE 

I    INTRODUCTION 1 

II     THE  POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON 64 

III     THE  POETRY  OF  NATURE  AND  OF  MEDITATION  .      .  101 
INDEX  .  121 


227070 


THE 

LIFE  AND  THE  POETRY  OF 
CHARLES  COTTON 

INTBODUCTION 

To  the  general  reader,  the  name  of  Charles  Cotton 
means  hardly  anything  at  all ;  and  indeed  to  scholars, 
who  are  not  specialists  within  the  period  in  which  his 
life  fell,  it  is  little  more  than  a  name.  Now  and 
then,  to  he  sure,  it  is  remembered  as  the  name  of 
Walton's  associate  " Angler, "  perhaps  also  as  that 
of  the  translator  of  Montaigne,  or,  much  less  favor- 
ably, as  that  of  the  author  of  a  burlesque  poem 
called  the  "Virgil  Travesty. " 

Nevertheless,  Cotton  has  not  been  without  appre- 
ciators  who  rank  him  as  one  of  the  most  delightful 
minor  poets  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Wordsworth 
knew  him  well,  and  in  "A  Letter  to  a  friend  of  Eob- 
ert  Burns, ' '  pays  a  tribute  to  him  as  a  "  highly-gifted 
man"  who  not  only  in  certain  unfortunate  circum- 
stances of  his  life,  but  in  "versatility  of  genius" 
bore  "no  unobvious  resemblance  to  the  Scottish 
bard."  Coleridge  found  in  the  volume  of  "Poems 
on  Several  Occasions"  (1689)  by  Cotton,  "not  a 

few  poems  replete  with  every  excellence  of  thought, 

i 


2  INTRODUCTION 

image  and  passion  which  we  expect  or  desire  in  the 
poetry  of  the  milder  Muse."  Charles  Lamb  quotes 
and  praises  the  poet  more  than  once, — in  this  case, 
as  so  often  elsewhere,  hitting  upon  the  distinctive 
quality  in  his  man.  "How  say  you,  reader" — he 
exclaims  after  quoting  Cotton 's  "  New  Year, ' ' — ' l  do 
not  these  verses  smack  of  the  rough  magnanimity 
of  the  old  English  vein?  Do  they  not  fortify  like 
a  cordial;  enlarging  the  heart,  and  productive  of 
sweet  blood  and  generous  spirits  in  the  concoction? 
Where  be  those  puling  fears  of  death  just  now  ex- 
pressed or  affected?  Passed  like  a  cloud — absorbed 
in  the  purging  sunlight  of  clear  poetry — clean 
washed  away  by  a  wave  of  genuine  Helicon — ." 
Archbishop  Trench,  more  careful  perhaps  to  guard 
against  the  charge  of  over-praise,  found  in  Cot- 
ton's poems  "a  merit  which,"  he  says,  " certainly 
strikes  me  more  than  any  singular  wealth  of  fancy 
which  I  can  find  in  them;  and  which  to  Words- 
worth also  must  have  constituted  their  chief  attrac- 
tion; namely,  the  admirable  English  in  which  they 
are  written.  They  are  sometimes  prosaic,  some- 
times blemished  by  more  serious  moral  faults;  but 
for  homely  vigor  and  purity  of  language,  for  the 
total  absence  of  any  attempt  to  conceal  the  defi- 
ciency of  strong  and  high  imagination  by  a  false  po- 
etic diction — purple  rags  torn  from  other  men's 
garments  and  sewn  upon  his  own — he  may  take  his 
place  among  the  foremost  masters  of  the  tongue." 
In  America  it  was  Lowell  who  found  Cotton  to  be 
"an  excellent  poet,  and  a  thorough  master  of  suc- 
culently  idiomatic  English,  which  he  treated  with  a 


INTRODUCTION  3 

country-gentlemanlike  familiarity,  as  his  master, 
Montaigne,  had  treated  French. "  And  again  in  de- 
fense of  the  poet,  Lowell  says,  "If  he  wrote  the 
*  Virgil  Travesty,'  he  also  wrote  verses  which  the 
difficult  Wordsworth  could  praise,  and  a  poem  of 
gravely  noble  mood  addressed  to  Walton  on  his 
Lives,  in  which  he  shows  a  knowledge  of  what  good- 
ness is  that  no  bad  man  could  have  acquired.  Let 
one  line  of  it  at  least  shine  in  my  page,  not  as  a  sam- 
ple but  for  its  own  dear  sake : — 

'For  in  a  virtuous  act  all  good  men  share.'  " 

So  much,  in  brief,  as  to  the  rare  quality  of 
language,  mind  and  heart  that  is  to  be  found  in 
Cotton's  serious  verse.  Why,  if  all  this  is  so,  has 
he  been,  as  a  poet,  so  long  neglected? 

Two  or  three  reasons  at  once  occur  to  the  student 
of  the  poetry  of  the  period.  In  the  first  place,  very 
little  of  his  best  work  was  published  in  his  lifetime. 
It  circulated  to  some  extent  amongst  his  friends, 
who  were  not  insensible  to  its  high  merit;  but  it 
was  not  printed  till  1689.  Then  it  came  too  late. 
Cotton  himself,  though  driven  to  it  by  necessity, 
had  helped  to  establish  a  taste  for  licentious  verse 
and  for  burlesque.  In  1689,  there  was  little  appre- 
ciation remaining  for  the  verse  of  Cotton's  youth 
and  early  manhood.  Perhaps  even  if  it  had  been 
published  at  the  time  of  'its  production,  it  would  still 
have  been  out  of  key  with  the  public  taste.  The 
"sweet  amenity"  of  his  master,  Isaac  Walton,  had 
met  with  little  response  as  pure  literature.  Until 
well  into  the  eighteenth  century,  the  "Angler"  was 


4  INTRODUCTION 

thought  of  as  merely  a  pleasant  manual  for  the  craft. 
"The  magnanimity  of  the  old  English  vein"  would 
probably  have  been  as  easily  overlooked.  At  all 
events  the  reputation  that  Cotton  gained  after  1660 
as  a  translator  and  as  a  pleasant  burlesquer  and 
compiler  was  naturally  adverse  to  a  quick  response 
to  the  work  of  his  serious  muse.  This  reputation  as 
a  clever  man-of-letters  kept  fresh  well  into  the  next 
century,  but  there  is  little  or  no  record  that  his 
poetry  was  known  at  all.  It  had  to  wait  for  its  hear- 
ing until  the  beginning  of  the  following  century, 
when  a  genuine  love  of  nature  and  of  thoroughly 
poetical  conception  sought  out  and  discovered  po- 
etry wherever  it  lay  hid. 

As  a  poet,  however,  he  would  naturally  have  suf- 
fered much  from  the  changing  attitude  of  his  time 
toward  poetry.  Professor  Schelling,  in  the  intro- 
duction to  his  "  Seventeenth  Century  Lyrics, "  has 
pointed  out  that  "  Whilst  the  larger  number  of 
poets  between  1640  and  1670,  according  to  tem- 
perament or  circumstances,  held  either  to  the  old 
manner,  as  did  Milton  and  Marvell,  or  went  over 
wholly  to  the  new,  as  did  Waller  and  Denham,  a 
few  were  caught,  so  to  speak,  between  the  conflict- 
ing waves  of  the  two  movements,  and  are  of  unus- 
ual historical  interest  on  this  account. "  Of  those 
who,  without  being  reactionary,  were  loyal  to  the 
spirit  that  was  passing,  Charles  Cotton  was  by  no 
means  the  least. 

The  poet  was  descended  from  an  ancient  and  hon- 
orable family.  His  great-grandfather  was  Sir  Rich- 
ard Cotton,  Comptroller  of  the  Household  and  Privy 


INTRODUCTION  5 

Councilor  to  Edward  the  Sixth.  His  grandfather 
was  Sir  George  Cotton  of  Warblenton  in  the  county 
of  Sussex  and  of  Bedhampton  in  the  county  of 
Southampton.  Sir  George  married  Cassandra,  one 
of  the  co-heiresses  of  Henry  Mackwilliams  of  Stan- 
burne-hall  in  the  county  of  Essex,  "sometymes  of 
the  honorable  band  of  Pensioners  to  the  late  Queene 
of  ffamous  memorye,  Queene  Elizabeth/'  Sir 
George's  son,  Charles  Cotton,  Esquire,  became  the 
poet's  father. 

Charles  Cotton,  the  elder,  has  left  no  record  of 
himself  in  letters,  but  his  fame  is  plentifully  pre- 
served in  the  writings  of  his  friends  and  admirers. 
Herrick  and  Lovelace  are  among  those  who  inscribed 
poems  to  him.  Of  the  poets,  Herrick  gives  the  most 
detailed  appreciation  of  the  man. 

"For  brave  comportment,  wit  without  offence, 
Words  fully  flowing,  yet  of  influence : 
Thou  art  that  man  of  men,  the  man  alone, 

"Who  with  thine  own  eyes  read'st  what  w^e  do  write, 
And  giv'st  our  numbers  euphony  and  weight; 
Tell'st  when  a  verse  springs  high,  how  understood 
To  be,  or  not,  born  of  the  royal  blood. 

For  which,  my  Charles,  it  is  my  pride  to  be 
Not  as  much  known,  as  to  be  lov  'd  of  thee. ' ' 

Thus,  though  he  was  not  himself  a  poet,  he  was  a 
critic  of  rare  ability  and  a  man  beloved  by  those 
whose  work  he  criticised.  Lovelace,  in  dedicating 
to  him  the  poem  called  "The  Grasshopper,"  made 
affectionate  reference  to  his  capacity  for  good-fel- 


6  INTRODUCTION 

lowship,  a  characteristic  which  we  shall  find  also  to 
be  not  the  least  distinctive  among  those  of  his  son : — 

"Thou  best  of  men  and  friends!  we  will  create 
A  genuine  summer  in  each  other's  breast; 
And  spite  of  this  cold  Time  and  frozen  Fate, 
Thaw  us  a  warme  seate  to  our  rest." 

Another  contemporary  poet,  Henry  Glapthorne, 
praised  him  with  convincing  discrimination;  his 
friend,  Alexander  Brome,  dedicated  an  edition  of 
Fletcher's  "Monsieur  Thomas "  to  him;  and  his 
relative  and  neighbor,  Sir  Aston  Cokaine,  affection- 
ately took  him  to  task  in  a  poetical  epistle  for  his 
part  in  an  edition  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  plays, 
which  seemed  to  Sir  Aston  over-generous  to  the 
Frenchman,  Beaumont,  at  the  expense  of  the  Eng- 
lishman, Fletcher.  In  1652,  Davenant  dedicated  the 
Seventh  Canto  of  the  Third  Book  of  "Gondibert"  to 
him;  in  stanzas  iv  and  v,  we  find  this  friendly 
prophecy : 

"And  Charles,  in  that  more  civil  Century, 
When  this  shall  wholly  fill  the  voice  of  Fame, 
The  busy  Antiquaries  then  will  try 

To  find  amongst  their  Monarch's  coin,  thy  Name. 

Much  they  will  bless  thy  Virtue,  by  whose  fire 
I'll  keep  my  laurel  warm,  which  else  would  fade, 
And,  thus  inclos'd,  think  me  of  Nature's  Quire, 
Which  still  sing  sweetest  in  the  shade." 

The  list  of  the  friends  of  the  elder  Cotton  is,  in- 
deed, an  imposing  one ;  it  includes,  besides  those  men- 
tioned, such  famous  names  as  those  of  Ben  Jonson, 


INTRODUCTION  7 

Donne,  Selden,  May,  Carew,  Walton,  Chief  Justice 
Vaughn  and  Lord  Clarendon.  The  latter 's  portrait 
of  him — few  can  sketch  more  deftly  than  Clarendon 
— is  interesting  not  only  on  its  own  account,  but  also 
for  the  striking  resemblance  that  it  leaves  us  to  find 
between  the  father  and  the  son : — 

"Charles  Cotton, "  says  Lord  Clarendon,  "was 
a  gentleman  born  to  a  competent  fortune,  and  so 
qualified  in  his  person  and  education,  that  for  many 
years  he  continued  the  greatest  ornament  of  the 
town,  in  the  esteem  of  those  who  had  been  best  bred. 
His  natural  parts  were  very  great,  his  wit  flowing 
in  all  the  parts  of  conversation;  the  superstructure 
of  learning  not  raised  to  a  considerable  height ;  but 
having  passed  some  years  in  Cambridge,  and  then 
in  France,  and  conversing  always  with  learned  men, 
his  expressions  were  proper  and  significant,  and 
gave  great  lustre  to  his  discourse  upon  any  argu- 
ment; so  that  he  was  thought  by  those  who  were 
not  intimate  with  him,  to  have  been  much  better 
acquainted  with  books  than  he  was.  He  had  all 
those  qualities  which  in  youth  raise  men  to  the  repu- 
tation of  being  fine  gentlemen ;  such  a  sweetness  and 
gentleness  of  nature,  and  such  a  civility  and  delight- 
fulness  in  conversation,  that  no  man  in  the  court,  or 
out  of  it,  appeared  a  more  accomplished  person; 
all  these  extraordinary  qualifications  being  sup- 
ported by  as  extraordinary  a  clearness  of  courage 
and  fearlessness  of  spirit." 

It  was  an  extraordinary  heritage.  Yet  the  young- 
er Cotton  was  endowed  with  most  of  these  traits, 
the  finer  and  deeper  ones  no  less  than  some  of 


8  INTRODUCTION 

those  that  had  more  dash  and  color.  There  re- 
mains to  be  mentioned  only  one  other  faculty  which 
the  father  may  have  bequeathed  to  his  son — the  gift 
of  expression.  We  have  the  testimony  of  no  less  a 
man  than  Isaac  Walton  to  the  elder  Cotton's  pos- 
session of  this  gift.  Walton,  speaking  of  the  an- 
cestral estate,  Beresford,  says,  "The  pleasantness 
of  the  river,  mountains,  and  meadows  about  it,  can- 
not be  described,  unless  Sir  Philip  Sidney  or  Mr. 
Cotton's  father  were  again  alive  to  do  it."  This 
power  of  description  was  one  of  the  most  eminent 
possessed  by  the  son. 

The  poet's  mother  was  Olive  Stanhope,  the  daugh- 
ter and  heiress  of  Sir  John  Stanhope  and  his  wife, 
Olivia  Beresford.  Her  father  was  half-brother  to  the 
first  Earl  of  Chesterfield ;  her  mother  was  a  descend- 
ant of  the  "brave  Beresfords,"  a  family  that  had 
been  prominent  for  centuries  in  the  county  of  Derby. 
The  ancient  seat  of  the  Beresfords,  Fenny  Bentley, 
was  only  a  short  walk  to  the  northeast  of  Beresford 
Hall,  the  poet's  birthplace.  The  Beresfords,  ancient 
and  modern,  are  known  as  men  of  fighting  blood. 
One  of  them,  Thomas — or  "Tom" — was  a  hero  of 
Agincourt,  and  left  a  story  attached  to  his  name 
which  is  of  credit  to  the  family.  On  the  eve  of  his 
marriage,  according  to  this  story,  the  blast  of  a 
trumpet  announced  the  approach  of  a  messenger  of 
King  Henry  the  Fifth  with  a  proclamation  to  his 
loyal  subjects  that  he  had  been  insulted  by  the 
French  king,  and  that  all  unmarried  men  were  to 
hasten  to  his  standard.  The  Beresfords  were  loyal, 
Thomas  was  as  yet  unmarried;  he  must  choose  be- 


INTRODUCTION  9 

tween  his  bride  and  his  king.  At  the  urgence  of  his 
betrothed  as  well  as  by  his  own  desire,  he  followed 
the  King  into  France.  At  Agincourt,  he  had  the 
valor  and  good-fortune  to  save  King  Henry 's  life. 
He  was  rewarded  later  at  his  marriage  by  the  spe- 
cial congratulations  and  favor  of  royalty.  Such 
stories,  if  simple,  make  a  tradition  to  which  the 
least  of  kin  does  not  listen  with  indifference,  and 
serve  as  a  more  or  less  potent  standard  of  conduct 
for  a  loyal  line  of  soldiers  and  gentlemen.  The 
Beresford  name  has  come  down  through  a  list  of 
rather  remarkable  men.  Humphrey  Beresford,  one 
of  the  sixteen  sons  of  Thomas  of  Agincourt,  was  the 
ancestor  in  direct  line  of  the  illustrious  Irish  Beres- 
fords,  Earls  of  Tyrone,  Marquises  of  Waterford. 

Olivia  Beresford,  great-grandmother  of  the  poet, 
had  been  the  sole  heiress  of  her  father  Edward 
Beresford,  and  had  come  into  possession  of  the  fam- 
ily estates.  These  had  descended  to  her  daughter 
Olive  (Beresford)  Stanhope,  and  in  due  course  they 
passed  to  her  daughter,  Olive  (Stanhope)  Cotton, 
mother  of  the  poet,  Charles. 

The  story  of  the  love  affair  and  run-away  mar- 
riage of  the  poet's  father  and  mother  is  one  of  much 
interest,  as  shown  in  the  detailed  account  of  it 
found  by  Mr.  John  Sleight  in  1868,  among  some  old 
family  deeds  and  papers  at  Bentley  Hall.  The  mu- 
tual passion  of  the  young  lovers,  their  hopes  and 
fears,  the  plot  and  the  carrying-out  of  it,  have  suf- 
fered surprisingly  little  in  the  hands  of  some  old 
attorney : 

"The  'Severall  answeare  of  Charles  Cotton,  Es- 


10  INTRODUCTION 

quire,  to  the  bill  of  Complaynt  of  Sir  John  Stanhope, 
Knight,  Complaynannt.  * 

'  *  This  def  endannt  sayeth  that  it  is  true  that  under- 
standing of  the  virtuous  disposition  of  the  Complay- 
nannt's  daughter,  and  receavinge  satisfaction  of 
the  good  report  hee  had  heard,  by  the  sight  of  her 
person,  he  did  by  all  possible  means  addrease  him- 
self to  intimate  unto  her  his  desires,  and  having  the 
opportunity  to  meet  with  her  att  the  house  of  one 
of  her  Aunts,  hee,  this  defendannt  did,  in  shorte 
time,  discover  her  affection  towards  this  defend- 
annt, and  there  upon  he  was  emboldened  to  pro- 
ceede  to  move  her  in  the  way  of  marriadge.  And 
there  were  some  messages  interchanged  betwixt 
them,  whereby  she  signified  her  readiness  to  an- 
sweare  this  def  endannt 's  desires  therein,  and  the 
difficulty  to  obteyne  her  but  by  carrying  her  away. 
And  did  herselfe  appointe  to  come  to  this  defend- 
annt, If  he  could  come  for  her ;  where  upon  hee  pre- 
pared a  coache,  and  in  the  eveninge  of  the  day,  in 
the  Bill  mentioned,  hee  came  in  a  Coache  neere  unto 
Salisbury  Courte,  where  the  Complaynannt  dwelleth. 
And  this  def  endannt 's  now  wyfe  came  of  her  owne 
accorde  to  this  defendannt,  and  went  away  with  the 
defendannt  and  the  same  night  this  defendannt  con- 
fesseth  that  they  were  marryed  together;  in  doinge 
whereof  if  this  def  endannt Js  passion  and  fervency 
of  affection  have  transported  him  beyond  the 
bounds  of  wisdome,  dutye,  and  good  discretion,  this 
defendannt  doth  most  humbly  crave  the  pardon  and 
favorable  construction  of  this  most  Honble  Courte 
and  of  the  Complaynannt  concerninge  the  same." 


INTRODUCTION  11 

Sir  John  Stanhope,  in  his  bill  of  complaint,  had 
imputed  mercenary  motives  to  the  young  lover,  in 
carrying  off  the  young  woman,  who  was  under  the 
legal  age  of  sixteen  years.  To  make  this  charge 
probable,  he  alleged  that  the  young  husband  was 
without  means  for  her  support.  To  this  the  de- 
fendant answered  that  "he  had  an  estate  in  Landes 
of  Inheritance  and  Eents  left  unto  him  of  the 
yearly  value  of  £600  per  annum,  or  thereabouts, 
which  he  yet  hath — besides  a  personall  estate  to  the 
value  of  one  thousand  marks,  or  thereabouts. 
And,"  goes  on  this  excellent  attorney,  "if  the  same 
be  not  aequivalent,  or  proportionable  to  the  Com- 
playnannt's  daughter's  estate;  This  Defendannt 
doubteth  not  but  to  supply  any  wants  thereof  by  his 
affectionate  love  to  his  wyfe,  and  respectfull  observa- 
tion of  such  a  ffather.  And  this  defendannt  fur- 
ther saith  that  he  did  not  know  that  said  Olive  was 
under  the  age  of  sixteene  yeares,  but  was  credibly 
informed  that  she  was  of  age  of  above  sixteene 
years,  nor  knoweth  what  Inheritance  was  descend- 
edable  upon  the  Complaynannt's  Daughter  (now 
this  defendannt 's  wife)  att  the  tyme  that  he  sought 
to  obteyne  her  for  his  wyfe;  his  affections  beinge 
more  fixed  upon  her  person,  and  the  Allyance  of  soe 
noble  a  ffamilye,  than  upon  her  estate." 

The  decision  of  the  court  is  not  included  among 
these  family  documents;  but  that  it  favored  the 
young  lovers  is  shown  by  the  record  of  a  subsequent 
court  decision,  dated  Whitehall,  13  January,  1629. 
This  deals  with  a  petition  to  the  King  by  one  John 
Darbyshire  and  Anne,  his  wife;  "to  escape  from  a 


12  INTRODUCTION 

mercenary  father-in-law,  the  petitioners  intermar- 
ried, and  unknowingly  incurred  the  penalty  against 
women  marrying  under  the  age  of  16  without  their 
parents '  consent."  In  this  case,  the  Attorney  Gen- 
eral reported  '  *  that  the  parties,  if  prosecuted  might 
be  punished  and  fined,  but  that  there  have  been  prec- 
edents of  pardons  in  like  cases,  ex.  qr.  that  of  Mr. 
Cotton,  for  marrying  the  daughter  of  Sir  John  Stan- 
hope, who  was  heir  to  her  mother  of  a  fair  estate. " 
The  only  issue  of  this  marriage  was  Charles  Cot- 
ton, the  poet.  He  was  born,  the  28th  of  April,  1630, 
at  Beresford  Hall,  which,  to  judge  by  the  old  prints, 
was  a  typically  comfortable  and  homelike  English 
country  seat.  We  have  fortunately  a  few  details 
from  Part  II.  of  the  "  Angler "  and  from  some  of 
Cotton's  poems  which  not  only  confirm  the  im- 
pression of  the  prints,  but  give  to  them  also  some- 
thing of  the  tinge  of  life.  Piscator  (Cotton)  says 
to  Viator: l  "Walk  but  into  the  parlour,  you  will 
find  one  book  or  other  in  the  window  to  entertain 
you  the  while. "  A  sunlit  cheerful  parlor  no  doubt 
it  was  with  a  row  of  books  on  the  broad  sill  of  its 
latticed  window,  and  beside  it  a  comfortable  chair 
for  the  reader.  Elsewhere  in  the  "  Angler "  we  are 
told  that  Cotton's  servants  "knew  his  certain 
hours"  and  that  there  was  no  tiresome  waiting  for 
dinner  and  supper.  "How  sweet  are  all  things 
here!"  the  poet  exclaims  in  "The  Retirement," 
'  '  How  cleanly  do  we  feed  and  lie !  What  good  hours 
do  we  keep !  How  quietly  we  sleep !  What  peace ! 

i  Complete  Angler,  Part  II.,  chap.  X. 


INTRODUCTION  13 

What  unanimity ! ' '  All  must  have  been  order,  punc- 
tuality and  cleanliness. 

The  surroundings  of  the  Hall  were  no  less  delight- 
ful, to  judge  from  Walton's  comment  upon  "the 
pleasantness  of  the  river,  mountains,  and  meadows 
about  it."  Just  behind  the  Hall,  arose  the  hill 
that  formed  the  western  wall  of  Beresford  Dale. 
It  was  along  this  green  slope  that  Piscator  and 
Viator  walked  in  the  early  morning  of  their  famous 
day  of  good  sport  and  good  conversation.  They 
stood  at  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  overlooking  Beresford 
Dale.  On  a  level  with  them  were  the  bald  hill-tops 
and  open  moorland  of  the  Peak.  Beneath  them,  in 
its  idyllic  glen,  ran  the  ' '  silver ' '  Dove. 

Viator  said,  "  'Tis  a  delicate  morning  indeed;  and 
I  now  think  this  a  marvellous  pretty  place. 

Piscator :  Whether  you  think  so,  or  no,  you  can- 
not oblige  me  more  than  to  say  so,  and  those  of 
my  friends  who  know  my  humour,  and  are  so  kind 
as  to  comply  with  it,  usually  flatter  me  that  way. 
But  look  you,  Sir,  now  you  are  at  the  brink  of  the 
hill,  how  do  you  like  my  river,  the  vale  it  winds 
through  like  a  snake,  and  the  situation  of  my  little 
fishing  house? 

Viator:  Trust  me,  'tis  all  very  fine;  and  the 
house  seems  at  this  distance  a  neat  building. 

Piscator:  Good  enough  for  that  purpose;  and 
here  is  a  bowling  green  too,  close  by  it;  so,  though 
I  am  myself  no  very  good  bowler,  I  am  not  totally 
devoted  to  my  own  pleasure,  but  that  I  have  also 
some  regard  to  other  men's.  And  now,  Sir,  you  are 


14  INTRODUCTION 

come  to  the  door ;  pray  walk  in,  and  there  we  will  sit, 
and  talk  as  long  as  you  please. ' ' 1 

The  little  fishing  house,  here  mentioned,  was  built 
to  commemorate  one  of  the  most  beautiful  friend- 
ships of  which  we  have  record,  that  of  Cotton  and 
his  hermetical  father,  Isaac  Walton.  But  Walton,  in 
fact,  so  Cotton  tells  us,  saw  it  only  a-building,  and 
before  the  roof  was  on ;  in  which  case,  nevertheless, 
he  must  have  seen  the  famous  "cipher  stone "  with 
the  interlaced  initials,  above  the  door,  and  resting  on 
it,  the  large  square  stone,  with  its  legend  "Piscator- 
ibus  Sacrum,  1674. ' '  It  was  not  here  therefore,  but 
in  the  cheerful  parlor  at  the  Hall  that  we  must  im- 
agine the  two  actual  sportsmen  conversing  in  their 
parabolic  vein  before  and  after  the  day's  outing. 
But  doubtless  they  often  seated  themselves  upon  the 
grass  to  talk  near  the  spot  where  the  fishing  house 
now  stands  as  a  monument  to  their  friendship. 

And  when  Piscator  and  Viator,  as  Cotton  repre- 
sents them  in  his  part  of  the  "Angler,"  entered  the 
fishing  house,  they  found  themselves  in  a  room  about 
fifteen  feet  square,  paved  with  black  and  white 
marble,  its  walls  covered,  from  the  pavement  to  the 
ceiling,  with  paneled  wainscoting.  In  the  large 
panels  were  painted  scenes  of  fishing,  and  in  the 
smaller  the  various  sorts  of  tackle  and  implements 
used.  On  the  left  side,  opposite  the  door,  was  a 
fireplace;  and  on  the  right,  a  large  "beaufet"  with 
folding  doors  whereon  were  portraits  of  Cotton, 
Walton,  and  a  boy  servant.  Underneath  the  beau- 
fet was  a  cupboard,  on  the  door  of  which  were 

i  Angler,  Part  II.,  chap.  III. 


INTRODUCTION  15 

painted  a  trout  and  a  grayling.  In  the  center  of  the 
room  was  a  black  marble  table,  supported  by  two 
stone  feet.  At  this  table  Piscator  and  Viator  "sate 
them  down,"  and  while  Piscator  smoked  the  pipe  of 
tobacco  " which, "  said  he,  is  "always  my  break- 
fast, "  the  two  discoursed  on  the  secrets  of  angling. 

A  few  paces  from  the  door  of  the  fishing  house 
was  "Pike  Pool."  Here  a  conical  shaft  of  lime- 
stone, covered  with  lichens  and  creepers,  rose  from 
the  bed  of  the  stream  to  the  height  of  thirty  or  forty 
feet.  About  its  base  the  Dove  had  dug  herself  a 
deep  pool.  On  the  Derby  side  a  wall  of  rock  rose 
from  the  water ;  on  the  Stafford  side  a  lawn  stretched 
back  to  the  hill  over  which  Piscator  and  Viator  had 
come  conversing.  At  this  point  the  anglers  first 
tried  their  skill.1  '  *  What  have  we  got  here  ? ' '  asked 
Viator,  "a  rock  springing  up  in  the  middle  of  the 
river!  this  is  one  of  the  oddest  sights  that  ever  I 
saw."  The  place  is  still  as  Viator  saw  it.  It  is  a 
spot  of  absolute  quiet  and  seclusion;  the  silence  is 
broken  only  by  the  Dove  chattering  over  little  stone 
weirs.  Such  a  place  fishermen  often  see  in  dreams. 

We  need  not  follow  Piscator  and  Viator  farther. 
Theirs  was  a  successful  day;  "Go  thy  way,  little 
Dove!"  exclaimed  Viator  in  the  evening,  "thou  art 
the  finest  river  ever  I  saw  and  the  fullest  of  fish." 
Perhaps  they  were  at  the  moment  returning  to  the 
Hall  by  way  of  the  foot-path  leading  up  the  Staf- 
fordshire bank  of  the  Dove  to  the  top  of  the  hill 
from  which,  in  the  morning,  they  had  looked  down 
upon  Beresford  Dale. 

i  Angler,  Part  II.,  chap.  VI. 


16  INTRODUCTION 

The  path  ran  near  two  objects  that  have  interest 
for  us.  Near  the  summit  of  the  hill  was  the  tower 
alluded  to  by  Cotton  in  an  "Epistle  to  John  Brad- 
shaw,  Esq."  In  this  epistle  the  poet  describes  a 
journey  from  London  to  Beresford  Hall  by  way  of 
St.  Albans,  Stratford  and  Lichfield.  He  came  at 
night-fall  of  the  fifth  day  within  sight  of  his  ' i  Hero 's 
Tow'r,"  from  which  the  light  of  "her  flambeaux" 
beaconed  him  to  his  "long  long'd-for  Harbour  of 
delight. ' '  And  not  far  from  the  tower  was  a  narrow 
cleft  in  the  rock  wide  enough  to  allow  one  person  to 
pass  through.  It  opened  into  a  large  hollow,  in  the 
solid  rock.  To-day  this  cavity  is  known  as  "Cot- 
ton's Hole."  It  is  probably  one  of  the  caves  which 
the  poet  apostrophizes  in  "The  Retirement." 

"Oh,  my  beloved  caves ! 
•        •••••••• 

What  safety,  privacy,  what  true  delight 

In  th'  artificial  night 

Your  gloomy  entrails  make, 

Have  I  taken,  do  I  take ! 

How  oft,  when  grief  has  made  me  fly 

To  hide  me  from  society, 

Ev  'n  of  my  dearest  friends,  have  I 

In  your  recesses'  friendly  shade 

All  my  sorrows  open  laid, 
And  my  most  secret  woes  entrusted  to  your 
privacy ! ' ' 

If  we  combine  into  one  conception  the  necessity 
which  drove  the  poet  to  lodge  with  "hard  favoured 
grief"  in  the  gloomy  entrails  of  his  beloved  rocks; 
and  the  grateful  pleasure  which  he  found  in  the 


INTRODUCTION  17 

sweetness  and  seclusion  of  Beresford  Dale,  in  the 
innocent  sport  which  the  "fair  Dove"  afforded  him 
and  in  the  cleanliness  and  order  of  the  domestic  life 
at  the  Hall,  we  may  realize  somewhat  the  manner  of 
man  Cotton  was,  and  we  may  value  at  its  true  worth 
the  frank  and  winning  revelation  of  the  man  given 
by  his  poetry. 

No  record  remains  of  his  boyhood  and  youth  at 
Beresford.  From  the  place  itself  we  may  guess 
how  these  years  passed.  The  Dove  was  near,  in 
which  a  boy  might  fish  and  bathe;  hills  and  caves 
afforded  adventure;  flowers  and  nuts  were  there 
to  be  gathered,  and  animals  to  be  tamed,  such  as  the 
little  marten  to  which  he  later  addressed  some 
charming  lines.  There  were  excursions  to  Harting- 
ton  on  market  days,  and  visits  from  time  to  time'  to 
the  world  of  fashion  at  Buxton.  During  the  long 
"Peak"  winter,  there  were  studies  to  be  mastered, 
a  routine  relieved  by  indoor  amusements  and  by  the 
festivities  of  the  English  yule-tide. 

There  was  of  course  a  period  of  school  life,  but  of 
it  likewise  no  record  is  left.  It  was,  perhaps, 
during  his  school  days  that  Cotton  was  called  upon 
to  bear  his  first  great  sorrow,  the  sudden  death  of 
his  mother  at  the  age  of  thirty-eight.  Tradition 
says  that  she  was  a  woman  of  great  beauty,  of  much 
intellect,  and  of  extreme  gentleness;  Charles  was 
her  only  child,  and  the  two  were,  no  doubt,  very  dear 
to  each  other.  She  was  buried  at  Bentley,  the  an- 
cient seat  of  her  family.  To  her,  Sir  Aston  Cokaine 
inscribed  the  following  epitaph : 


18  INTRODUCTION 

"Passenger,  stay,  and  notice  take  of  her, 
Whom  this  sepulchral  marble  doth  inter : 
For  Sir  John  Stanhope's  daughter,  and  his  heir 
By  his  first  wife,  a  Beresford,  lies  here. 
Her  husband  of  a  noble  house  was,  one 
Everywhere  for  his  worth  belov'd  and  known, 
One  only  son  she  left,  whom  we  presage 
A  grace  t'  his  family,  and  to  our  age. 


Now  thou  may'st  go;  but  take  along  with  thee 
(To  guide  thy  life  and  death)  her  memory. " 

From  tradition  we  learn  that  Cotton's  father  took 
great  interest  in  his  son's  education.  He  took  a 
hand  in  it  personally  by  choosing  authors  for  trans- 
lation, and  by  setting  the  boy  themes  for  practice 
in  writing.  That  the  elder  Cotton  was  in  this  re- 
spect a  competent  mentor  for  his  son  there  can  be 
no  doubt.  We  have  only  to  recall  Herrick's  praise 
of  his  fine  taste  in  poetry,  and  Walton's  testimony 
to  his  gift  for  description.  Under  these  circum- 
stances, it  was  perhaps  not  a  matter  of  great  mo- 
ment whether  or  not  the  poet  had  a  college  training. 
The  tradition  is  persistent  that  he  was  sent  to  Cam- 
bridge, though  Mr.  Bullen  considers  this  not  proved. 
Nevertheless,  he  somehow  acquired  a  knowledge  of 
the  classics  equal  at  least  to  that  of  a  Cambridge 
graduate,  and  he  became  early  in  life  widely  read 
in  French  and  Italian  literature.  Sir  Aston  Co- 
kaine,  in  " Poems  of  Diverse  Sorts,"  1658,  addressed 
an  epistle  "To  my  Cousin,  Mr.  Charles  Cotton, 
the  younger,"  in  which  the  following  lines  occur, 


INTRODUCTION  19 

r<In  how  few  years  have  you  rais'd  up  an  high 
Column  of  learning  by  your  industry. " 

And  again,  in  the  same  volume,  Sir  Aston  says, 

"D'Avila,  Bentivoglio,  Guicciardine, 
And  Machiavil  the  subtle  Florentine, 
In  their  originals  I  have  read  through, 
Thanks  to  your  library  and  unto  you. 

When  you  have  more  such  books,  I  pray  vouch- 
safe 
Me  their  perusal. ' ' 

This  seems  to  contradict  the  inference  of  Macau- 
lay  in  a  note  to  his  History  of  England  (chap,  iii) 
as  to  the  scarcity  of  books  in  country  places  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  an  inference  drawn  by  Macau- 
lay  from  the  fact  that  "Cotton  seems,  from  his 
Angler,  to  have  found  room  for  his  whole  library  in 
his  hall  window :  and  Cotton  was  a  man  of  letters. ' ' 
Cotton  did  his  translations  at  Beresf ord ;  from  this 
it  would  seem  that  he  may  have  had  about  him  there 
a  library  of  considerable  size. 

The  first  published  verses  of  Cotton  appeared  in 
Eichard  Brome's  "Lachrymae  Musarum,"  1650,  a 
volume  of  elegies  written  by  "divers  persons  of 
Nobility  and  Worth,  upon  the  death  of  the  most 
hopefull  Henry  Lord  Hastings/'  Among  the  con- 
tributors to  this  volume,  besides  Cotton,  were 
Thomas  Bancroft,  Sir  Aston  Cokaine,  Alexander 
Brome,  Sir  John  Denham,  Andrew  Marvell,  and 
Eobert  Herrick.  Though  Cotton  was  but  nineteen 


20  INTRODUCTION 

years  of  age,  his  elegy  is  far  from  being  the  poorest 
in  the  volume;  it  is  one  of  the  best.  It  is  con- 
ventional, like  most  of  the  others;  but  it  shows 
no  glaring  faults  in  taste,  and  it  was  evidently  writ- 
ten with  the  poet's  eye  upon  the  object.  Two  years 
later  he  prefixed  commendatory  verses  to  Edmund 
Prestwick's  translation  of  Seneca's  ' ' Hippolytus. " 
Belonging  to  about  this  time  are  several  interesting 
poems,  to  be  found  in  the  posthumous  volume  of 
"Occasional  Poems. "  Among  these  is  "An  invi- 
tation to  Phillis,"  a  variation  upon  Marlowe's 
theme  "Come  live  with  me  and  be  my  love."  The 
setting  for  the  poem  is  evidently  Beresford  Dale, 

"Come  live  with  me,  and  be  my  love, 
And  thou  shalt  all  the  pleasures  prove, 
The  mountains  towering  tops  can  show 
Inhabiting  the  Vales  below. 
From  a  brave  height  my  Star  shall  shine  l 
T*  illuminate  the  desart  Clime. 
Thy  Summer's  bower  shall  overlook, 
The  subtil  windings  of  the  Brook, 
For  thy  delight  which  only  springs 
And  cuts  her  way  with  Turtles  Wings." 

Further  on  the  Dove  is  specifically  mentioned, 
"Where  crystal  Dove  runs  murmuring  still." 

The  companion  piece  to  this,  "The  Entertainment 
to  Phillis"  should  also  be  mentioned;  it  is  equally 
"sweet,"  musical,  and  sensuous: 

iThis  refers  to  the  "Hero's  TowV  mentioned  above. 


INTRODUCTION  21 

"I  have  such  Fruits  too,  for  thy  taste, 
As  teeming  Autumn  never  grac't, 
Apples,  as  round,  as  thine  own  Eyes ; 
Or,  as  thy  Sister  Beauties  prize, 
Smooth,  as  thy  snowy  Skin,  and  sleek 
And  ruddy  as  the  Morning's  cheek, 
Grapes,  that  the  Tyrian  purple  wear, 
The  spritely  Matrons  of  the  Year, 
Such,  as  Lyaeus  never  bare, 
About  his  drowsy  Brows,  so  fair, 
So  plump,  so  large,  so  ripe,  so  good, 
So  full  of  flavours,  and  of  blood. " 

In  passing,  it  is  worthy  of  mention  that  in  these 
poems,  and  others  of  this  period,  Cotton  shows  a 
great  fondness  for  alliteration,  especially  of  the 
liquids,  and  of  the  s-sound  that,  instead  of  hissing, 
sings.  Take  for  example, 

" Sweet,  as  the  milk  of  Sand-red  Cow"  ; 
and  again, 

"Carpets  where  Flowers  woven  grow, 
Only  thy  sweeter  steps  to  strew, 
Such  as  may  emulation  bring, 
To  the  wrought  mantle  of  the  Spring." 

Also  of  this  period  is  the  "Song  Montross"  ; 
Montross  was  captured  and  executed,  May  21,  1650. 
"Laura  Sleeping"1  and  "Laura  Weeping,"2  two 
beautiful  lyrics,  are  likewise,  to  judge  from  evi- 
dences of  poetic  style,  of  this  period : 

1  Poems,  1689,  p.  519. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  521. 


22  INTRODUCTION 

* l  Sweet  sorrow  drest  in  such  a  look, 
As  love  would  trick  to  catch  desire ; 
A  shaded  Leaf  in  Beauties  Book, 
Charactered  with  clandestine  Fire."1 

These  poems,  as  we  have  seen,  are  smooth  and 
warmly  colored,  and  it  should  be  added,  relatively 
impersonal.  But  in  the  "Eclogue.  Damon.  C.  C. 
Thyrsis.  E.  E. "  a  somewhat  different  note  is  struck. 
This  eclogue  was  written,  probably,  about  1650;  for 
Thyrsis  says,  evidently  referring  to  the  death  of 
the  King,  January  30,  1649, 

"  'Las!  who  can  sing?  since  our  Pan  dy'd 
Each  Shepherd's  pipe  is  laid  aside: 
Our  flocks  they  feed  on  parched  ground, 
Shelter,  nor  Water's  for  them  found: 
And  all  our  sports  are  cast  away, 
Save  when  thou  sing'st  thy  Ccelia."  2 

Damon  replies, 

"Ccelia,  I  do  confess  alone 
My  object  is  of  Passion, 
My  Star,  my  bright  Magnetick  Pole, 
And  only  Guidress  of  my  Soul. ' ' 3 

Damon  (C.  C.)  is  obviously  Cotton  himself,  and 
Thyrsis  (E.  K.)  Ralph  Rawson,  his  tutor.  Ralph 
Rawson  was  in  residence  at  Brasenose  college,  Ox- 
ford, in  1648,  and  was  expelled  by  the  Parliamentary 
visitors  in  that  year.  He  was,  about  this  time,  Cot- 

1  Poems,  1689,  p.  522. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  360. 
»  Ibid.,  p.  403. 


INTRODUCTION  23 

ton's  tutor  either  at  Cambridge,  or, — which  is  more 
probable, — his  private  tutor  at  Beresford. 

It  is  altogether  probable  that  the  Coelia  of  the 
eclogue  is  Cotton's  distant  relative,  Isabella  Hutch- 
inson,  the  inspiration  of  many  of  the  lyrics,  written, 
say,  between  1650  and  the  time  of  his  marriage  to 
her  in  1656.  She  was  the  daughter  of  Sir  Thomas 
Hutchinson  of  Owthorpe,  by  his  second  wife,  Cath- 
erine, who  was  the  daughter  of  Sir  John  Stanhope 
of  Elvaston.  There  was  opposition  to  the  marriage 
from  some  quarters  on  the  ground  of  too  close  a 
blood  relationship;  in  "The  Separation "  1  Cotton 
cries, 

"But  oh,  th'  unwelcome  cause, 

Of  superstitious  Laws! 
That  us,  from  our  mutual  embraces  tear, 
And  separate  our  bloods,  because  too  near. ' ' 

And  again,2 

"But  I'll  pursue  her,  till  our  flood  agree, 
Alpheus  I,  and  Arethusa  she." 

So  far  as  the  lovers  themselves  were  concerned, 
love  met  love  with  "equal  flame."  The  poet  was 
in  despair  when  his  mistress  was  coy  or  when  she 
was  absent  from  him ;  but,  on  the  whole,  he  indulged 
himself  very  little  in  conventional  grief.  More 
often  he  expressed  doubt  of  his  own  worthiness. 
This  note  rings  true  whenever  we  find  it.  He  seems 
to  have  been  unwontedly  clear-eyed,  even  circum- 

1  Poems,  1689,  p.  347,  stanza  iii. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  348. 


24  INTRODUCTION 

spect,  from  beginning  to  end.  He  expressed  himself 
like  one  sobered  rather  than  intoxicated  by  happi- 
ness. He  seemed  anxious,  one  might  say,  to  avoid 
if  possible  the  fatality  of  bliss.  His  appeal  was 
egotistical,  and  yet  it  does  not  offend;  it  sprang 
from  insight  and  sincerity,  not  from  willful  self-as- 
sertion. He  realized,  even  in  the  heyday  of  passion- 
ate desire,  that  love  cannot  thrive  long  on  self-abne- 
gation. He  knew  that  the  best  and  the  highest  is 
nevertheless  earth-born,  that  it  is  a  flower  which 
fades  quickly  when  cut  off  from  the  stock  on  which 
it  grows.  By  virtue  of  his  sincerity  he  instinctively 
escaped  the  poetical  dilemma  of  his  age.  He  was 
too  much  of  a  realist  to  be  a  Platonist  in  love,  and 
too  wholesome  to  be  a  cynic.  To  illustrate  his  tem- 
per, take  the  fifth  stanza  of  "Estrennes  to  Calis- 
ta,"1 

"  You  who  my  last  love  have,  my  first  love  had, 
To  whom  my  all  of  love  was  and  is  paid, 
Are  only  worthy  to  receive 
The  richest  New  years-gift  I  have. 
My  love,  which  I  this  morning  give, 

A  nobler  never  Monarch  gave 
Which  each  new-year  I  will  present  a-new 
And  you'll  take  care,  I  hope,  it  shall  be  due." 

The  last  line  of  this  quotation  illustrates  what  is 
meant  by  calling  him  a  realist ;  it  is  by  such  fidelity 
to  the  mixed  texture  of  human  experience  and 
human  feeling,  that,  time  and  again,  he  wins  convic- 
tion. 

i  Poems,  1689,  p.   162. 


INTRODUCTION  25 

As  the  time  for  his  departure  to  France  drew 
near,  his  love  poems  took  on  a  tone  of  apprehension. 
He  wished  for  an  avowal  from  his  betrothed  which 
would  hold  him,  in  absence,  true  to  himself  at  his 
best,  and  to  her.  He  had  no  doubts  of  her  constancy, 
— which  is  the  finest  compliment  a  lover  can  pay, — 
but  he  was  not  absolutely  sure  that  he  could  be  true 
to  her  and  to  himself : — 

11  'Tis  my  ador'd  Diana,  then  must  be 

The  Guid'ress  to  this  beaten  Bark  of  mine, 
'Tis  she  must  calm  and  smooth  this  troubled  Sea, 
And  waft  my  hope  over  the  vaulting  Brine : 
Call  home  thy  venture  Dian  then  at  last, 
And  be  as  merciful  as  thou  art  chaste. " 

He  took  her  picture  with  him,  explaining  why  with 
disarming  frankness: 

"Then,  Sweetest,  would  thy  Picture  turn 
My  wandering  eyes  to  thee  at  home." 

Upon  trial  of  himself,  however,  he  proved  im- 
pervious to  temptation,  and  announced  naively  in 
"The  Retreat," 

"I'm  returned,  my  Fair,  but  see 
Perfection  in  none  but  thee. ' ' 

Isabella  must  have  had  a  rare  amount  of  insight 
and  good-sense,  for  there  is  a  quality  of  love  that 
would  have  cavilled  at  that.  Evidently  she  did  not, 
nor  does  the  reader,  who  cannot  help  loving  this 
lover,  so  scrupulously  honest  with  himself  and  with 


26  INTRODUCTION 

her.    One  believes  him  when  he  sings  in  the  ode, 
"To  Isabel":1 


"Fair  Isabel,  if  aught  but  thee 

I  could,  or  would,  or  like,  or  love ; 
If  other  Beauties  but  approve 
To  sweeten  my  Captivity: 

I  might  those  Passions  be  above, 

Those  Powerful  Passions  that  combine 
To  make,  and  keep  me  only  thine. 

n. 

Or,  if  for  tempting  treasure  I 

Of  the  World's  God,  prevailing  Gold, 
Could  see  thy  Love,  and  my  Truth  sold, 
A  greater,  nobler  Treasury; 

My  flame  to  thee  might  then  grow  cold, 
And  I  like  one  whose  love  is  sense, 
Exchange  thee  for  convenience. 

m. 

But  when  I  vow  to  thee,  I  do 

Love  thee  above  or  Health,  or  Peace, 
Gold,  Joy,  and  all  such  Toys  as  these, 
'Bove  Happiness  and  Honour  too : 

Thou  then  must  know,  this  love  can  cease, 
Nor  change  for  all  the  glorious  show 
"Wealth,  and  Discretion  bribes  us  to. 

IV. 

What  such  a  love  deserves,  thou,  Sweet, 
As  knowing  best,  may'st  best  reward; 
I,  for  thy  bounty  well  prepared, 

i  Poems,  1689,  p.  449. 


INTRODUCTION  27 

With  open  arms  my  Blessing  meet. 

Then  do  not,  Dear,  our  joys  detard ; 
But  unto  him  propitious  be, 
That  knows  no  love,  nor  life,  but  thee. ' ' 

The  marriage  took  place  in  1656,  upon  Cotton's 
return  from  his  travels  in  France  and  Italy. 
Before  this  event,  he  and  his  father  had  vested  the 
manors  of  Bentley,  Barrowashe,  and  Beresford, 
with  other  lands,  in  trustees,  to  sell  off  so  much  of 
the  property  as  would  pay  a  mortgage  of  £1700, 
and  to  hold  the  rest  in  trust  for  the  younger  Cotton 
and  his  heirs.  The  elder  Cotton,  who  had  greatly 
impoverished  his  estates  by  law-suits,  died  in  1658. 

For  the  next  ten  or  eleven  years,  the  poet  seems 
to  have  lived,  very  happily,  the  life  of  a  country  gen- 
tleman. Much  of  his  time  was  taken  up  with  the 
care  of  his  estates;  but,  like  his  cousin  Sir  Aston 
Cokaine  at  the  neighboring  estate  of  Pooley,  he 
found  time  for  reading  and  study,  and  for  the  indul- 
gence, as  he  puts  it,  of  "an  incurable  humour  of 
scribbling. "  During  these  years,  many  of  his  best 
lyrics  were  written.  It  seems  probable  that  the 
"Summer  Day  Quatrains "  were  composed  during 
the  early  years  of  his  married  life;  and  to  these 
years,  perhaps,  should  be  assigned  the  fine  ode 
to  "Winter,1"  which  Wordsworth  so  much  admired. 
Here,  too,  should  be  placed  a  number  of  amorous 
elegies  and  lyrics  which  seem  to  show  the  influence 
of  certain  French  poets,  in  particular  that  of  Mal- 
herbe,  Voiture,  Eacan,  and  Theophile  de  Viaud. 
"The  Battail  of  Yvry,"  a  narrative  poem  based  on 
French  history,  belongs  also  to  these  years, — i.  e., 


28  INTRODUCTION 

the  years  just  before  the  Restoration — as  the  con- 
cluding couplet  of  the  last  stanza  indicates, 

'  '  Leaving  fair  France  unto  his  brighter  Ray 
May  ev'ry  injur'd  Prince  have  such  a  Day." 

Belonging  to  this  period,  too,  are  some  pieces 
of  a  satirical  cast  such  as  "The  Litany,"  probably 
written  before  1660,  and  "The  Joys  of  Marriage,"  a 
poem  of  mildly  satirical  banter,  in  which  is  em- 
bedded the  following  characteristic  tribute  to  his 
wife : 

"Yet  with  me  'tis  out  of  season 
To  complain  thus  without  reason, 
Since  the  best  and  sweetest  fair 
Is  allotted  to  my  share: 
But  alas !  I  love  her  so 
That  my  love  creates  my  woe ; 
For  if  she  be  out  of  humour, 
Straight  displeased  I  do  presume  her 
And  would  give  the  World  to  know 
What  it  is  offends  her  so : 
Or  if  she  be  discontented, 
Lord,  how  am  I  then  tormented ! 
And  am  ready  to  persuade  her 
That  I  have  unhappy  made  her : 
But  if  sick  I  then  am  dying, 
Meat  and  med'cine  both  defying: 
So  uneasie  is  his  Life 
Who  is  married  to  a  Wife." 

At  the  Restoration,  in  1660,  Cotton  published  a 
panegyric  in  prose  on  Charles  II.  He  was  an  ar- 
dent royalist.  The  only  bitterly  satirical  verses 
that  he  ever  wrote  were  those  provoked  from  him 


INTRODUCTION  29 

by  Waller's  eulogy  on  Oliver  Cromwell.  Neverthe- 
less, neither  he  nor  his  father  appears  to  have 
suffered  any  persecutions  at  the  hands  of  the  Com- 
monwealth party.  In  an  "  Epode ' ' l  addressed  to 
Alexander  Brome,  he  expressed  his  joy  at  the  return 
of  the  King : 

* '  Now  let  us  drink,  and  with  our  nimble  Feet, 
The  Floor  in  graceful  measures  beat; 

Never  so  fit  a  time  for  harmless  Mirth 
Upon  the  Sea-guirt  spot  of  Earth. 

The  King's  returned !" 

In  the  same  poem,  the  following  lines  are  found: 

"Our  Griefs  once  made  us  thirsty,  and  our  Joy, 

If  not  allay  'd,  may  now  destroy, 
Light  up  the  silent  Tapers,  let  them  shine, 

To  give  Complexion  to  our  Wine ; 
Fill  each  a  Pipe  of  the  rich  Indian  Fume 

To  vapour  Incense  in  the  Eoom, 
That  we  may  in  that  artificial  shade 

Drink  all  a  Night  ourselves  have  made. 
No  Cup  shall  be  discharged,  whilst  round  we  sit, 

Without  a  smart  report  of  wit, 
Whilst    our    Inventions    quickened    thus,    and 
warm, 

Hit  all  they  fly  at,  but  not  harm ; 
For  it  Wit's  mastery  is,  and  chief est  Art 

To  tickle  all;  but  make  none  smart." 

In  1664,  Cotton  began  his  burlesque  writing,  with 
the  publication  of  "  Scarronides,  or  the  First  Book 
of  Virgil  Travestie."  Six  years  later,  this  book 
was  reprinted,  with  a  travesty  of  the  "fourth  book" 

i  Poems,   1689,  p.   511. 


30  INTRODUCTION 

added.  During  the  poet's  lifetime,  six  editions  of 
' '  Scarronides ' '  appeared.  He  seems  always  to  have 
been  ashamed  of  this,  his  most  popular  work,  as 
many  passing  allusions  in  his  epistles  and  elsewhere 
attest;  but  hard  necessity  drove  him  to  burlesque, 
as  from  time  to  time  it  drove  him  to  his  caves.  His 
only  defense  was  that  the  age  in  which  he  lived 
required  burlesque  of  him,  and  that  he  did  it  as  well 
as  he  could.  His  best  in  this  kind,  we  must  admit, 
was  better  than  that  of  any  other,  excepting  Butler. 
Compared  with  the  similar  work  of  Mennis  and 
Smith  in  the  "Musarum  Deliciae,"  Cotton's  dog- 
gerel is  fine  art.  It  is  almost  never  dull;  it  does 
not  amble,  nor  trot;  it  gallops,  as  it  should,  with 
vigorous  ease.  Whatever  may  be  the  true  judgment 
of  his  burlesque,  it  undoubtedly  gave  pleasure  in 
its  day.  Pepys,  for  one,  records  on  March  2nd, 
1663-64,  that,  stopping  on  his  way  home  at  St.  Paul's 
Church  yard, — in  spite  of  an  eye  "  mightily  out  of 
order  with  rheum"  he  " there  looked  upon  a  pretty 
burlesque  poem  called  i  Scarronides  or  Virgilian 
Travesty,'  "  which  he  found  "extraordinary  good." 
It  is  interesting  to  note  that  the  publication  of  the 
"Scarronides"  synchronizes  with  a  crisis  in  Cot- 
ton's financial  affairs.  Some  time  prior  to  the  year 

1664  he  had  applied  to  Parliament  for  power  to  sell 
part  of  his  estates,  in  order  to  pay  his  debts.    In 

1665  this  petition  was  favorably  acted  upon.    Now 
the  question  rises,  what  was  the  cause  of  his  constant 
pecuniary  embarrassment?    Was  it  due,  as  the  usual 
impression  seems  to  be,  to  the  dissipations  of  a  reck- 
less bon  vivant?    Before  an  answer  is  given  to  this 


INTRODUCTION  31 

question,  let  us  recall  one  or  two  well-ascertained 
facts  concerning  the  matter. 

In  the  first  place,  it  should  be  remembered  that 
Cotton's  estates  came  to  him  seriously  encumbered. 
From  the  outset  he  was  engaged  in  law-suits  which 
he  had  inherited,  in  some  degree,  with  the  paternal 
estates.  Moreover,  his  amiable  weakness  of  gener- 
osity laid  him  open  to  the  arts  of  designing  men,  and 
gave  occasion  to  those  pathetic  references  to  ingrati- 
tude and  neglect  met  with  in  the  eclogues,  odes,  epis- 
tles, and  elsewhere.  Of  these  one  may  be  cited,  in 
passing : 1 

1  'The  want  of  Wealth  I  reckon  not  distress, 
But  of  enough  to  do  good  offices. 
Which  growing  less  those  Friends  will  fall  away; 
Poverty  is  the  ground  of  all  decay : 
With  our  Prosperities  our  Friendships  end, 
And  to  misfortune  no  one  is  a  Friend, 
Which  I  already  find  to  that  degree 
That  my  old  Friends  are  now  afraid  of  me, 
And  all  avoid  me,  as  good  men  would  fly 
The  common  Hangman's  shamefull  company. 
Those  who  by  Fortune  were  advanced  above, 
Being  obliged  by  my  most  ready  love, 
Shun  me,  for  fear  least  my  necessity 
Should  urge  what  they're  unwilling  to  deny, 
And  are  resolv'd  they  will  not  grant ;  and  those 
Have  shared  my  meat,  my  Money,  and  my  Cloaths, 
Grown  rich  with  others  Spoils  as  well  as  mine 
The  coming  near  me  now  do  all  decline, 
Least  shame  and  gratitude  should  draw  them  in 
To  be  to  me  what  I  to  them  have  been ; 
By  which  means  I  am  stripp'd  of  all  Supplies 
And  left  alone  to  my  own  Miseries. ' ' 

i  Eclogue:  Poems,  1689,  p.  108. 


32  INTRODUCTION 

Such  means  of  being  " stripped  of  all  supplies/' 
taken  in  connection  with  inherited  debts,  and  the 
unsettled  condition  of  public  affairs  in  his  day,  are 
in  themselves  sufficient  to  account  for  his  straitened 
circumstances. 

If  we  are  careful  to  avoid  unjust  inferences,  it 
may,  however,  be  freely  admitted  that  according  to 
our  standards  Cotton  was  intemperate.  On  one  oc- 
casion l  he  writes  to  his  friend  Bradshaw  that  hav- 
ing got  as  far  as  Uttoxeter  on  his  way  home  from 
London,  it  being  market-day, 

' '  I  was  constrained  with  some  kind  lads  to  stay 
Tippling  till  afternoon,  which  made  it  night 
When  from  my  Hero's  Tower  I  saw  the  light 
Of  her  Flambeaux,  and  fancied  as  we  drave 
Each  rising  Hillock  was  a  swelling  wave 
And  that  I  swimming  was  in  Neptune 's  spight 
To  my  long  long'd-for  Harbour  of  delight." 

In  the  "  Voyage  to  Ireland"  2  he  stops  at  a  way- 
side inn  for  refreshment,  and  finds  "the  best  ale  in 
England," 

"I  speak  it  with  tears 
Though  I  have  been  a  Toss-pot  these  twenty  good 

years, 
And  have  drank  so  much  liquor  has  made  me  a 

Debtor." 

Again,  in  an  epistle  to  Sir  Clifford  Clifton3  he 
describes  himself  as  having, 

1  Poems,  1689,  p.  55. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  174. 
» Ibid.,  p.  328. 


INTRODUCTION  33 

" Grown  something  swab  with  drinking  good  Ale." 
But  in  this  same  epistle l  he  also  says,  that  though 

' l  His  delight  is  to  toss  the  cann  merrily  round 
And  loves  to  be  wet, ' ' 

he  nevertheless  "  hates  to  be  drowned. " 

Such  instances  might  be  multiplied.  Two  consid- 
erations must  be  taken  into  account  in  attempting  to 
estimate  their  value  as  indications  of  Cotton's  hab- 
its and  the  probable  consequences  of  them ;  namely, 
the  attitude  of  the  time  toward  drinking,  and  the  con- 
ventions of  private  correspondence  and  of  burlesque 
under  which  he  so  constantly  spoke  of  himself  as  a 
1 1  toss-pot. "  It  is  certain  that  he  was  not  more, 
and  may  have  been  much  less,  indulgent  to  himself 
in  this  respect  than  the  average  gentleman  of  his 
time.  It  was  a  great  time  for  drinking.  Even 
grave  divines  consumed  large  quantities  of  wine. 
And  Pepys,  who  was  himself  very  often  "fox'd  with 
drink/'  tells  of  a  lady  who  at  one  draught  drank  a 
pint  and  a  half.  The  evidence  which  Cotton  him- 
self furnishes  is  not  sufficient  to  prove  him  a  drunk- 
ard, even  if  such  evidence  were  to  be  taken  liter- 
ally, as  of  course  it  is  not.  Such  evidence  occurs 
mainly  in  epistles  to  intimate  friends, — such  friends 
as  might  have  been  expected  to  understand  as  well 
as  to  enjoy  a  decided  touch  of  self-caricature.  The 
other  source  of  evidence  is  the  "Voyage  to  Ireland 
in  Burlesque."  But  here,  obviously,  the  rules  of 
burlesque  must  be  applied  to  what  the  poet  has  said 
of  his  drinking,  as  well  as  to  what  he  has  said  of 

i  Poems,  1689,  p.  329. 


34  INTRODUCTION 

himself  in  other  respects.  His  confessions,  if  taken 
literally,  might  as  easily  prove  that  he  was  a  bad 
poet  as  that  he  was  a  bad  man,  for  he  disparages 
his  poor  muse  as  well  as  himself.  The  zest  of  cari- 
cature, of  course,  depends  upon  exaggeration, — an 
exaggeration  which  by  its  evident  falsity  suggests 
the  truth.  An  age  which  does  not  know  the  sub- 
ject of  the  caricature  may  well  be  at  a  loss  to  dis- 
tinguish false  from  true.  What  is  perhaps  plainest 
in  these  cartoons  of  Cotton  is  the  glimpse  they  give 
of  a  charming  personality.  Such  facts  as  they  sug- 
gest of  character  and  habits  must  be  carefully 
weighed  in  the  most  delicate — and  of  necessity,  un- 
certain— scales  of  criticism. 

At  about  the  time  of  this  first  crisis  in  his  business 
affairs  Cotton  seems  to  have  made  strenuous  ef- 
forts to  retrieve  his  fortunes.  The  preface  to  his 
translation  of  the  "Duke  of  Espernon"  (published 
in  1669-70)  shows  that  among  other  shifts  he  had 
sought  public  employment.  But  whatever  this  was, 
' '  it  did  not  hold  long. ' '  Some  light  may  possibly  be 
thrown  upon  what  this  employment  was  by  the  fol- 
lowing letter  found  by  Mr.  H.  F.  Wake  in  a  folio  of 
Cotton's  translations  of  the  "Duke  of  Espernon," 
formerly  in  the  Tixall  Library.  The  letter,  Mr. 
Wake  explains,  though  without  name  or  date,  is  by 
careful  comparison,  in  Cotton's  handwriting.  It  is 
given  here  for  what  it  may  be  worth. 

"Sir  when  I  was  last  with  you  I  aquainted  you 
how  Sir  Thomas  Ingram  had  aquainted  me  how  he 
was  by  his  Majestyes  order  to  send  down  a  comytyon 
to  me  and  others  to  exammyne  dyvers  wasts  of- 


INTRODUCTION  35 

fenses  and  losses  his  majesty  suffered  in  Needwood 
and  the  Honor  of  Tutbury.  I  am  through  his 
Majestyes  gratyouse  Favor  his  lieutennant  off  the 
Forrest  and  his  high  Steward  off  the  Honor  of 
Tutbury.  I  then  likewise  tould  you  I  conceaved  I 
had  reason  to  beelieve  iff  the  commytyon  weare  Full 
itt  would  tuch  some  persons  what  would  endevor 
to  avoyd  itt  and  I  have  some  assurance  now  it  is 
so  For  the  commytyon,  a  coppy  off  which  the 
Channcelor  sent  mee  to  peruse,  is  I  conceave  de- 
fective in  what  I  Feared  it  would  For  itt  gives  us 
Full  power  to  fynd  out  all  trespases  in  the  woods 
and  game  but  the  greatest  prejudice  his  Majesty 
suffers  in  is  his  grants  of  offyses;  in  grants  off 
Lands  concealements  of  Lands  and  incrochments. 
I  have  given  Sir  Tho :  Ingram  an  answer  by  a  letter 
For  hee  writt  to  me  to  know  my  opynyon  off  the 
commytyon. ' ' 

"  After  being  delivered  from  that  employment, " 
— Cotton  in  the  preface  to  the  'Duke  of  Espernon' 
says, — "I  was  taken  off  by  so  long  and  so  uncom- 
fortable a  sickness,  that  I  found  myself  utterly 
unfit  for  any  undertaking  of  this,  or  any  other  kind, 
and  consequently  had  almost  given  over  all  thought 
of  proceeding  in  a  work  which  at  some  melancholy 
times  I  believ'd  I  might  not  live  to  finish.1  Being 
since  restored  to  a  better  state  of  health,  and  coming 
to  review  my  papers,  either  the  dislike  of  what  I  had 
already  done,  the  shame  of  having  been  so  long  in 
doing  it,  the  indisposition  my  disease  left  still  hang- 
ing upon  me,  the  bulk  of  what  I  had  undertaken,  the 
little  license  I  conceived  I  might  have  wherewith  to 

iA  more  intimate  account  of  this  sickness  seems  to  be  afforded 
by  the  epistle  to  Sir  Clifford  Clifton  quoted  below. 


36  INTRODUCTION 

perform  it,  or  all  together,  had  almost  persuaded  me 
to  hold  on  to  the  same  resolution,  and  forever  to 
let  it  alone :  till  recollecting  myself  I  remembered  I 
had  a  greater  obligation  upon  me  (which  neverthe- 
less I  do  not  think  fit  to  publish  in  this  place)  to 
go  through  with  what  I  had  already  begun,  than  was 
to  be  dissolved  by  any  truant  humour,  or  private 
aversion  of  my  own. ' ' 

These  words,  written  probably  at  the  end  of  the 
year  1666,  or  the  beginning  of  the  following  year, 
would  seem  in  the  light  of  what  we  know  of  his 
pecuniary  difficulties  about  this  time,  to  be  an  obvious 
allusion  to  them.  Furthermore,  if  there  should  be 
any  doubt  as  to  his  energy  and  patience  in  trying 
to  conjure  forth  his  muse  when  she  was  unwilling, 
the  epistle  to  Sir  Clifford  Clifton  may  be  quoted  at 
length  to  dispel  it.  We  see  the  poet,  just  out  of  his 
illness,  start  from  his  couch, 

"  Where  I  lay  dull  and  muddy. 
Of  my  servants  inquiring  the  way  to  my  study 
For  in  truth  of  late  days  I  so  little  do  mind  it 
Should  one  turn  me  twice  about  I  never  should  find 
it" 

Arrived  at  his  study,  he  "  brawls "  for  his  muse 
(which,  as  he  says,  some  call  " invoking "),  but  she 
will  not  respond. 

' '  I  then  fell  to  searching,  since  I  could  not  leave  her. 
I  sought  all  the  shelves,  but  never  the  nearer: 
I  tumbled  my  Papers,  and  rifled  each  Packet, 
Threw  my  books  all  on  heaps  and  kept  such  a 
racket 


INTRODUCTION  37 

Disordering  all  things,  which  before  had  their 

places 

Distinct  by  themselves  in  several  classes, 
That  who'd  seen  the  confusion,  and  look't  on  the 

ware, 
Would   have   thought  he   had   been   at   Babylon 

Fair." 

Evidently,  in  spite  of  his  careless  tone,  he  was  or- 
dinarily a  methodical  literary  worker. 

"At  last,  when  for  lost  I  had  wholly  resign 't  her 
Where  canst  thou  imagine,  dear  K>*,  I  should  find 

her? 

Faith,  in  an  old  Drawer,  I  late  had  not  been  in, 
'Twixt  a  coarse  pair  of  sheets  of  the  Housewife's 

own  spinning, 

A  Sonnet  instead  of  a  coif  her  head  wrapping, 
I  happily  took  her  small  Ladiship  napping. 
Why  how  now,  Minx,  quoth  I,  what's  the  matter  I 

pray, 

That  you  are  so  hard  to  be  spoke  with  to  day? 
Fy,  fy  on  this  Idleness,  get  up,  and  rouse  you, 
For  I  have  a  present  occasion  to  use  you : 
Our  Noble  Mecaenas,  Sir  Clifford  of  Cud-con, 
Has  sent  here  a  Letter,  a  kind  and  a  good  one : 
Which  must  be  suddenly  answer  'd,  and  finely, 
Or  the  Knight  will  take  it  exceeding  unkindly ; 
To  which  having  some  time  sat  musing  and  mute, 
She  answer 'd  sh'ad  broke  all  the  strings  of  her  Lute ; 
And  had  got  such  a  Eheum  with  lying  alone, 
That  her  voice  was  utterly  broken  and  gone : 

1  i  Besides  this,  she  had  heard  x  that  of  late  I  had  made 
A  friendship  with  one  that  had  since  bin  her  Maid ; 
One  Prose,  a  slatternly  ill- favoured  toad, 

1 A  reference,   no  doubt,  to   Cotton's   work   on  the  translation  of 
the  "Duke  of  Espernon." 


38  INTEODUCTION 

As  common  as  Hackney,  and  beaten  as  Eoad, 
With  whom  I  sat  up  sometimes  whole  Nights  to- 
gether, 

Whil  'st  she  was  exposed  to  the  Wind  and  weather. 
Wherefore,  since  that  I  did  so  slight  and  abuse  her, 
She  likewise  now  hop'd  I  would  please  to  excuse 
her." 

He  now  tries  to  regain  his  muse 's  favor  by  repre- 
senting to  her  the  lure  of  fame. 

11  Which  she  so  much  despised,  she  pish't  at  the 

name; 

And  told  me  in  answer,  that  she  could  not  glory  at 
The  Sail-bearing  Title  of  Muse  to  a  Laureat, 
Much  less  to  Ehymer,  did  nought  but  disgust  one, 
And  pretended  to  nothing  but  pittiful  Fustian 
But  oh,  at  that  word,  how  I  rated,  and  call  'd  her, 
And  had  my  Fist  up,  with  intent  to  have  maul'd 

her: 

At  which,  the  poor  Minx,  half  afraid  of  the  matter 
Changing  her  note,  'gan  to  wheedle  and  flatter ; 

Being  thus  made  Friends,  we  fell  to  debating 
What  kind  of  Verse  we  should  congratulate  in: 
I  said  't  must  be  Doggrel,  which  when  I  had  said, 
Maliciously  smiling,  she  nodded  her  head 
Saying  Doggrel  might  pass  to  a  friend  would  not 

show  it, 
And  do  well  enough  for  a  Derbyshire  Poet." 

The  epistle  goes  on  to  congratulate  Sir  Clifford 
upon  his  election  to  Parliament,  advises  him  to  give 
money  to  His  Majesty,  to  beware  falling  out  with 
his  betters,  and  to  avoid  treason.  It  ends  with  an 
interesting  description  of  the  poet  by  himself. 


INTRODUCTION  39 

1  '  Farewell  then,  dear  Bully,  but  ne  're  look  for  a 

Name 

For,  expecting  no  honour,  I  will  have  no  shame ; l 
Yet,  that  you  may  ghess  at  the  Party  that  writes 

fee, 
And  not  grope  in  the  dark,  I'll  hold  up  these  Lights 

fee. 

He  always  wants  Money,  which  makes  him  want 

ease, 

And  he's  always  besieg'd,  tho  himself  of  the  Peace, 
By  an  Army  of  Duns,  who  batter  with  Scandals, 
And  are  Foemen  more  fierce  than  the  Goths  or  the 

Vandals. 

But  when  he  does  rally,  as  sometimes  he  does, 
Then  hey  for  Bess  Juckson,  and  a  Fig  for  his  Foes : 
He's  good  Fellow  enough  to  do  every  one  right 
And  never  was  first  that  ask't,  what  time  of  Night: 
His  delight  is  to  toss  the  cann  merrily  round, 
And  loves  to  be  wet,  but  hates  to  be  drown 'd: 
He  fain  would  be  just,  but  sometimes  he  cannot, 
Which  gives  him  the  trouble  that  other  men  ha'  not. 
He  honours  his  Friend,  but  he  wants  means  to  show 

it, 

And  loves  to  be  rhyming,  but  is  the  worst  Poet. 
Yet  among  all  these  Vices,  to  give  him  his  due, 
He  has  the  Vertue  to  be  a  true  Lover  of  you." 

At  about  the  date  of  this  epistle  to  Sir  Clifford 
Clifton,  Cotton  became  a  captain  in  the  Earl  of 
Chesterfield's  regiment  of  foot;  this  was  a  part  of 
a  levy  raised  in  anticipation  of  a  land  invasion  by 
the  Dutch,  who  in  June  of  1667  burned  Sheerness, 

iAn  allusion,  perhaps,  to  his  feeling  about  the  "Scarronides," 
anonymously  printed  in  1664;  he  was  at  this  time  at  work  on  the 
"fourth  book"  of  it,  which  was  published  in  1670. 


40  INTRODUCTION 

entered  the  Medway,  and  sailed  to  within  twenty 
miles  of  London.  England  was  much  alarmed. 
Pepys  makes  this  jotting,  on  the  twelfth  of  June: 
"The  newes  is  true,  that  the  Dutch  have  broke  the 
chaine  and  burned  our  ships,  and  particularly  'The 
Eoyal  Charles ';  other  particulars  I  know  not,  but 
most  sad  to  be  sure.  And  the  truth  is  I  do  fear  so 
much  that  the  Kingdom  is  undone. "  Cotton  and 
his  regiment  had,  a  few  days  before,  passed  through 
London  on  their  way  to  Harwich,  where  the  militia 
was  assembling.  On  the  ninth  of  June,  Pepys  had 
recorded  "In  comes  my  Lord  Berkeley  who  is  going 
down  to  Harwich  also  to  look  after  the  militia  there ; 
and  there  is  also  the  Duke  of  Monmouth,  and  with 
a  great  many  young  Hectors,  the  Lord  Chesterfield, 
My  Lord  Mandeville,  and  other s."  No  more  definite 
record  remains  of  Cotton's  military  service.  Per- 
haps, as  he  said  of  his  other  public  employment,  it 
"did  not  hold  long,"  though  there  is  some  reason 
to  believe  that  three  years  later  he  went  to  Ireland 
in  a  quasi-military  capacity.  Chesterfield's  regi- 
ment was  in  commission  for  only  a  short  time,  being 
disbanded  soon  after  the  conclusion  of  the  peace 
with  Holland,  on  the  twenty-first  of  July,  1667.1 

For  the  following  year  and  a  half  we  have  no 
record  of  Cotton,  unless,  as  seems  probable,  an 
epistle  to  John  Bradshaw 2  belongs  to  this  time.  In- 
this,  after  a  vivid  description  of  a  journey  from  Lon- 

1  Calendar  of  State  Papers:     1667.     Pepys,  12  June,  1667;   ibid., 
9  June,   1667.     Dalton,  Army  Lasts,  i,  79. 

2  Poems,  1689,  p.  83. 


INTRODUCTION  41 

don  to  Beresford,  he  gives  the  following  character- 
istic account  of  himself : — 

"And  now  I'm  here  set  down  again  in  peace, 
After  my  troubles,  business,  Voyages,1 
The  same  dull  Northern  clod  I  was  before, 
Gravely  enquiring  how  Ewes  are  a  Score, 
How  the  Hay-Harvest  and  the  Corn  was  got 
And  if,  or  no,  there's  like  to  be  a  Eot: 
Just  the  same  sot  I  was  e'er  I  removed, 
Nor  by  my  travel,  nor  the  Court  improved; 
The  same  old  fashion 'd  Squire,  no  whit  refin'd 
And  shall  be  wiser  when  the  Devil's  blind." 

In  the  spring  of  1669,  his  wife,  whom  he  deeply 
loved,  died.  She  was  buried  at  Alstonfield  on  the 
twenty-sixth  of  April.  As  issue  of  this  marriage 
there  had  been  eight  children;  five  were  living. 
Beresford,  the  eldest,  and  the  only  son,  was  but 
twelve  years  of  age.  Perhaps  we  may  now  begin  to 
understand  what  Cotton  must  have  had  at  heart  when 
he  wrote  in  the  preface  to  the  '  *  Duke  of  Espernon, ' ' 
apropos  of  his  impulse  to  abandon  that  work,  and  his 
remembrance  of  the  obligation  that  urged  him  on  to 
it,  "I  therefore  reassum'd  my  former  purpose,  and 
some  months  since  (probably  1668-69)  took  the  book 
again,  in  good  earnest  in  hand,  which  when  I  have 
said,  any  ingenious  person  may  reasonably  wonder 
how  a  man,  in  good  earnest,  and  that  has  so  little 
to  do  in  the  world  as  I  have,  could  be  all  this  tedious 

i  By  "Voyages"  it  is  probable  that  he  means  "journeys."  Cf. 
"A  Voyage  to  Ireland  in  Burlesque,"  in  which  only  a  description 
of  travel  by  land  is  given. 


42  INTRODUCTION 

time  about  such  a  piece  of  work  as  this.  To  which 
(if  what  I  have  already  said  will  not  serve  for  an 
excuse)  I  shall  answer,  that,  although  by  my  inca- 
pacity, my  ill  fortune,  or  both,  I  stand  excus  'd  from 
publick  employment,  I  have  notwithstanding  so 
much  private  concern  of  my  own  to  divert  me,  and 
so  few  moments  to  bestow  upon  myself,  that  I  won- 
der 'tis  done  so  soon:  an  apology  I  might  how- 
ever have  spar'd,  since  my  haste  will  I  fear  be  legible 
in  every  line." 

The  "History  of  the  Life  of  the  Duke  of  Esper- 
non:  the  great  favorite  of  France "  was  published 
in  the  year  1669-70.  It  covered  the  period  of  French 
history  "from  the  year  1598,  when  D'Avila  leaves 
off,  down  to  our  own  times,  1642. ' '  It  was  dedicated 
to  Gilbert,  Lord  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  one  of 
His  Majesty's  Most  Honourable  Privy  Council.  Of 
this  dedication  Cotton  says  "I  have  .  .  .  been 
prompted  thereunto  by  an  honest  Vanity  I  have,  the 
World  should  take  notice,  that  how  private  soever 
my  life  has  been,  I  have  not  altogether  conversed 
with  Obscurity:  but  that  I  have  had  the  Honour  to 
be  sometimes  known  unto,  and  to  have  been  Fa- 
vour 'd  by  one  of  the  greatest  Prelates,  and  the  best 
men  upon  Earth."  In  the  same  "humour,"  mod- 
estly his  own,  he  affirms  in  the  preface  that  his 
motives  in  making  the  translation  were  not  "any 
design  of  advantage,  that  consideration  being  ever 
very  much  below  my  thoughts :  not  to  oblige  the 
world,  that  being  above  my  expectations ;  but  having 
an  incurable  humour  of  scribbling  upon  me,  I  be- 
liev'd  I  could  not  choose  a  braver  subject  for  my 


INTRODUCTION  43 

Friends '  diversion,  my  own  Entertainment  than  this. 
...  It  was  not  therefore  out  of  any  ambition 
I  had  to  be  again  in  Print,  I  having  suffered  too 
much  that  way  already. "  This  reference  is  evi- 
dently to  the  "Scarronides,"  and  the  unwelcome 
reputation  that  it  gave  him.  He  did  not,  however, 
on  account  of  this  feeling,  desist  from  the  writing  of 
burlesque.  In  this  same  year,  he  reprinted  the 
' '  Scarronides ' '  with  a  travesty  of  the  fourth  book  of 
Virgil  added.  It  proved  to  be  very  popular,  going 
through  nine  editions  during  the  author's  lifetime. 

In  May  of  this  year  (1670)  he  made  a  journey,  or 
as  he  called  it,  a  "  voyage "  to  Ireland.  His  expe- 
riences on  the  way  from  Beresford  to  Wales  are 
given  in  the  burlesque  poem,  "A  Voyage  to  Ire- 
land." It  affords  us  many  interesting  glimpses  of 
the  poet.  At  forty  years  of  age  he  might  well,  he 
says,  be  considered  wiser  than  to  run  such  errands  as 
these,  though  in  his  youth,  he 

"     ...    was  one  of  those  People 
Would  have  gone  a  great  way  to  have  seen  an  high 
steeple 

But  to  tell  you  the  truth  on't,  indeed  it  was  neither 
Improvement    nor    pleasure    for    which    I    went 
thither ;" 

It  was  necessity,  as  he  explains,  that  induced  him 
to  go  "to  the  place  whereof  Nick  was  asham'd." 
At  Chester  he  was  invited  to  sup  with  the  mayor, 
the  latter 's  eye  having  been  caught  by  "a  glorious 


44  INTRODUCTION 

Gold  Belt"  that  the  poet  wore.  The  occasion  gives 
rise  to  a  flow  of  the  poet's  mild  satire,  some  of  it 
directed — to  our  illumination — against  himself : — 

"Supper  being  ended,  and  things  away  taken, 
Master  Mayor 's  Curiosity  'gan  to  awaken ; 
Wherefore  making  me  draw  something  nearer  his 

chair, 

He  will'd  and  required  me  there  to  declare 
My  Country,  my  Birth,  my  Estates,  and  my  Parts, 
And  whether  I  was  not  a  Master  of  Arts ; 
And  what  the  business  was  had  brought  me  thither, 
With  what  I  was  going  about  now  and  whither : 
Giving  me  caution,  no  lye  should  escape  me, 
For  if  I  should  trip,  he  should  certainly  trap  me. 
I  answer 'd,  my  Country  was  fam'd  Staffordshire; 
That  in  Deeds,  Bills,  and  Bonds,  I  was  ever  writ 

Squire ; 
That  of  Land,  I  had  both  sorts,  some  good,  and 

some  evil, 
But  that  a  great  part  on't  was  pawn'd  to  the 

Devil; 

That  as  for  my  Parts,  they  were  such  as  he  saw ; 
That  indeed  I  had  a  small  smattering  of  Law, 
Which  I  lately  had  got  more  by  practice  than  read- 
ing, 

By  sitting  o'  th'  Bench,  whilst  others  were  plead- 
ing; 

But  that  Arms  I  had  ever  more  studied  than  Arts, 
And  was  now  to  a  Captain  rais  'd  by  my  desarts ; 
That  the  business  which  led  me  through  Palatine 

ground 
Into  Ireland  was,  whither  now  I  was  bound ;" 

What  the  business  was,  which  led  him  into  Ireland, 
it  would  be,  all  things  considered,  somewhat  inter- 


INTRODUCTION  45 

esting  to  know.  But  about  that  he  is  unwontedly 
reticent. 

In  1671  he  prepared  for  publication  a  translation 
of  Horatius  by  Corneille.  The  Horatius  was  not,  in 
fact,  merely  a  translation;  it  contained  a  number 
of  original  songs  and  choruses,  which  according  to 
Mr.  Alfred  Wallis  in  ' '  Notes  and  Queries ' ' l  are  to 
be  found  no  where  else  in  Cotton's  published  poetry. 
It  is  important  to  note  that  the  preface  to  this 
adaptation  shows  that  the  translation  prior  to  1671 
existed  only  in  manuscript,  and  that  it  was  done 
as  early  as  1665,  for  "the  private  amusement  of  a 
fair  young  lady,"  the  poet's  relative,  Mrs.  Stan- 
hope Hutchinson.  It  would  seem,  therefore,  that 
the  work  was  not  done  originally  for  publication, 
but  that  now,  under  the  stress  of  circumstances,  it 
was  put  upon  the  market. 

Two  years  later,  1673,  the  publisher,  Henry 
Brome,  brought  out  an  unsigned  work,  entitled  '  *  The 
Compleate  Gamester,  or  Instruction  how  to  play  at 
Billiards,  Trucks,  Bowls,  and  Chess :  Together  with 
all  manner  of  usual  and  most  gentile  games,  either 
on  Cards  or  Dice.  To  which  is  added,  The  Arts  and 
Mysteries  of  Biding,  Eacing,  Archery,  and  Cock- 
fighting."  This  compilation,  which  was  popular  in 
its  day,  was  republished  several  times  before  1699, 
when  its  authorship  was  at  last  ascribed  by  the 
publisher  to  Charles  Cotton,  Esq.  Its  publication 
seems  to  be  added  proof  that  Cotton  had  been  driven 
to  "pot-boiling."  That  he  was  not  altogether  oc- 

i  "Notes  and  Queries,"  6th  S.  vol.  viii,  1883. 


46  INTRODUCTION 

cupied  with  hack-work  is  indicated  by  the  fact  that 
his  poem  addressed  to  Walton  on  the  "Life  of  Dr. 
Donne "  also  belongs  to  this  year.  But  that  he  was 
mainly  so  occupied  is  open  to  little  doubt.  For  in 
the  next  year,  1674,  he  published  his  translation  of 
1 1  The  Commentaries  of  Blaise  de  Montluc,  Mareschal 
of  France,  wherein  are  described  all  the  combats, 
rencounters,  skirmishes,  battles,  sieges,  assaults, 
scalades,  the  taking  and  surprise  of  towns  and 
fortresses,  as  also  the  defence  and  assaults  of  the 
besieged,  etc."  He  was  perhaps  taking  his  cap- 
taincy somewhat  seriously,  and  at  the  same  time 
turning  his  interest  in  it  to  account.  In  the  same 
year  he  published  "The  Fair  One  of  Tunis,  or  the 
Generous  Mistress;  A  new  Piece  of  Gallantry,  Out 
of  French, "  the  frontispiece  of  which  represents 
a  Knight  in  armor  on  horseback,  receiving  from 
Mars  a  spear  entwined  with  laurel,  and  from  Venus 
a  chaplet.  In  this  year,  too,  he  wrote  a  set  of  com- 
mendatory verses  which  appeared  with  Thomas 
Flatman's  volume  of  poems.1 

For  the  most  part,  during  the  nine  or  ten  years 
following  the  granting  of  his  petition  to  Parliament 
in  1665  to  be  allowed  to  sell  a  part  of  his  estates 

i  These  verses,  by  the  way,  are  of  interest  as  expressing  Cotton's 
generous  though  discriminating  praise  of  a  poet — one  unlike  him- 
self— who  has  yet  perhaps  to  receive  his  full  measure  of  apprecia- 
tion. Flatman, — says  Cotton, — knew  how  to  "reconcile  frailty  with 
Innocence," 

"The  Love  you  write,  Virgins  and  Boyes  may  read, 
And  never  be  debauch't  but  better  bred; 
For  without  love,  Beauty  would  bear  no  price, 
And  dulness,  than  desire's  a  greater  vice." 


INTRODUCTION  47 

in  order  to  pay  his  debts,  Cotton  was  engaged,  then, 
as  we  have  seen,  in  trying  to  stem  the  tide  of  his 
misfortunes.  He  seems  not  to  have  been  lacking 
either  in  resources  or  in  energy.  Yet,  as  subsequent 
events  show,  his  efforts  had  been  of  little  avail.  He 
had  obtained  public  employment,  but  soon  "stood 
excused  from  it";  he  had  entered  the  army,  but 
before  he  had  seen  any  length  of  service,  peace  had 
been  declared;  then,  from  about  1670  onward,  he 
had  worked  almost  as  a  literary  drudge,  doing  the 
bidding  of  the  book-sellers,  or  adventuring  on  like 
speculations  of  his  own.  The  epistle  to  John  Brad- 
shaw,  written  about  this  time  (perhaps  1673-74), 
serves  to  recall  this  period  of  his  life.  Settled 
again  at  Beresford,  he  had  begun,  he  says,  "to  live 
at  the  old  rate," 

' '  To  bub  old  Ale,  which  nonsense  does  create, 
Write  lewd  Epistles,  and  sometimes  translate 
Old  Tales  of  Tubs,  of  Guyenne  and  Provence 
And  keep  a  clatter  with  th'  old  Blades  of  France 
As  D'Avenant  did  with  those  of  Lombardy, 
Which  any  will  receive,  but  none  will  buy 
And  that  sets  H.  B.1  and  me  awry." 

Amid  this  bewilderment  of  private  griefs,  and 
public  misfortunes,  he  bore  himself  for  the  most 
part  with  cheerfulness ;  one  might  say  with  a  cava- 
lier-like gayety  of  courage.  Some  of  his  occa- 
sional verses,  it  must  be  admitted, — such,  for  exam- 
ple, as  the  odes  on  "Poverty"  and  "The  World" — 
were  colored  by  his  sorrow  and  defeat;  but  ad- 

iH.  B.     Henry  Brome,  his  publisher. 


48  INTRODUCTION 

versity  did  not  make  him  hoarse  or  mute;  within 
his  compass  he  sang  with  a  clear  voice  that  gave 
expression  to  a  sound  heart. 

An  episode  of  these  years  was  his  marriage  to 
his  distant  relative,  the  Countess  Dowager  of  Ard- 
glass,  eldest  daughter  of  Sir  William  Eussell,  and 
widow  of  Wingfield,  fifth  Baron  Cromwell.  Just 
when  the  marriage  took  place  is  not  known.  The 
act  of  administration  of  Cotton's  effects  in  1695 
speaks  of  the  Countess  of  Ardglass  as  his  widow. 
That  the  marriage  took  place  sometime  before  1675 
a  document  soon  to  be  given  in  abstract  will  show. 
In  dealing  with  this  passage  in  the  poet's  life  Cot- 
ton's biographers  have  concerned  themselves  only 
with  what  would  appear  to  be  the  obvious  motive  for 
such  a  marriage.  Cotton  was  broken  in  fortune: 
he  had  a  family  of  five  young  children:  his  distant 
kinswoman  was  a  reasonable  choice  for  the  head  of 
his  household,  particularly  since  she  had  a  jointure 
of  £1,500  a  year.  No  doubt  at  Cotton's  time  of  life 
these  considerations  had  much  weight  with  him. 
However,  as  to  the  jointure  of  £1,500  a  year,  there  is 
some  reason  to  believe  that  it  was  secured  to  his 
wife ;  it  did  not,  at  any  rate,  relieve  his  financial  em- 
barrassment. Convenience  does  not  seem  to  have 
been  the  sole  motive  for  his  second  marriage. 
Among  his  occasional  poems  there  is  a  considerable 
number  which  have  a  tone  of  intimately  discriminat- 
ing praise  rather  than  one  of  mere  gallantry,  but 
which,  for  all  their  evident  sincerity,  lack  the  morn- 
ing freshness  of  his  youthful  verses  to  Isabella.  It 
is  not  improbable  that  these  were  addressed  to  his 


INTRODUCTION  49 

second  wife.  They  express  a  feeling  as  genuine  as 
was  the  love  of  his  youth.  Time,  of  course,  has  left 
its  marks  on  the  poet,  and  with  characteristic  honesty 
he  makes  no  pretense  to  a  sentiment  which  life  per- 
haps grants  only  once.  But  in  these  verses  if  there  is 
less  of  the  early  fire,  there  is  no  abatement  of  manly 
tenderness,  and  there  is  the  added  charm  of  a  pecu- 
liar candor.  The  ' '  Stanzas  Irreguliers  "  l  to  Chloris, 
which  begin  with  the  more  startling  aspects  of  this 
candor,  close  with  its  more  delicate  shades. 


1 1 


Lord !  how  you  take  upon  you  still ! 

How  you  crow  and  domineer ! 
How !  still  expect  to  have  your  will, 

And  carry  the  Dominion  clear, 
As  you  were  still  the  same  that  once  you  were ! 


VI. 

And  Faith,  consult  your  glass,  and  see 

If  I  ha 'n't  reason  on  my  side ; 
Are  those  eyes  still  the  same  they  used  to  be? 
Come,  come,  they're  alter 'd,  'twill  not  be  deni'd; 
And  yet,  although  the  glass  be  true, 
And  shew  you,  you  no  more  are  you, 

I  know  you'll  scarce  believe  it, 
For  Womankind  are  all  born  proud,  and  never, 
never  leave  it. 

vn. 

Yet  still  you  have  enough,  and  more  than  needs, 
To  rule  a  more  Rebellious  heart  than  mine ; 

i  Poems,  1689,  p.  118. 


50  INTRODUCTION 

For  as  your  eyes  still  shoot  my  heart  still  bleeds, 
And  I  must  be  a  Subject  still. 

Nor  is  it  much  against  my  will, 
Though  I  pretend  to  wrestle  and  repine : 
Your  Beauties  still  are  in  the  height, 

And  I  must  still  adore, 
New  Years,  new  Graces  still  create, 
Nay,  maugre  Time,  Mischance  and  Fate, 
You  in  your  very  ruines  shall  have  more, 
Than  all  the  Beauties  that  have  grac'd  the  world 
before." 

This  may  be  an  expression  of  middle-aged  senti- 
ment, but  it  is  a  rare  expression  of  the  depth  of  it; 
paradoxical  as  it  may  seem,  the  romance  of  love  re- 
mains, although  stripped  of  illusion. 

In  the  "Calendar  of  State  Papers "  for  1675  there 
is  preserved  an  amended  draft  of  a  second  Act  en- 
abling Charles  Cotton,  Esq.,  to  sell  lands  in  order 
to  pay  debts,  and  also  to  raise  portions  for  his 
younger  children.  In  the  light  of  what  we  have 
seen  of  his  ten  years  *  struggle  with  adverse  cir- 
cumstances, this  document  becomes  one  of  pathetic 
interest.  It  states  that  his  wife  Isabella  was  then 
dead ;  that  she  had  left  one  son  and  four  daughters, 
who  were  prevented,  by  their  father's  mortgages, 
and  other  incumbrances,  from  enjoying  the  advan- 
tages to  which  they  were  entitled  under  the  pre- 
vious settlement  in  1665,  and  that,  therefore,  he 
was  willing  to  divest  himself  of  his  title  to  his  prop- 
erty for  the  payment  of  his  debts,  which,  together 
with  £2,000  to  be  raised  for  his  daughters'  portions, 
amounted  to  about  £8,000.  Parliament,  therefore, 
enacted  that  all  his  lands  should  be  "vested  in  trus- 


INTRODUCTION  51 

tees  who  should  allow  him  to  retain  Beresford  Hall, 
and  to  receive  the  sum  of  forty  pounds  per  annum 
during  his  own  life,  and  the  life  of  the  Bight  Hon. 
Dame  Mary,  Countess  Dowager  of  Ardglass,  and 
after  her  decease  the  sum  of  sixty  pounds  yearly 
above  the  said  annuity  as  long  as  he  might  live; 
that  as  much  land  should  be  sold  as  would  pay  his 
debts,  and  raise  £2,000  for  his  daughters'  portions 
and  that  the  rest  of  his  estates  should  be  conveyed  to 
his  only  son,  Beresford  Cotton,  and  the  heirs  of  his 
body,  with  remainder  to  the  heirs  of  his  father." 

In  view  of  these  facts  it  seems  significant  that 
in  this  year,  1675,  he  published  the  "Burlesque 
upon  Burlesque,  or  the  Scoffer  Scoft,  being  some 
of  Lucian's  Dialogues,  newly  put  into  English  Fus- 
tian. "  It  was  frequently  reprinted;  burlesque 
seems  to  have  been  the  poet's  one  sure  source  of 
revenue. 

In  the  following  year  (1676)  he  published  his  most 
famous  original  work  in  prose,  a  treatise  on  fly-fish- 
ing, which  was  added  as  a  "Second  Part"  to  the  fifth 
edition  of  Walton's  "Complete  Angler."  Prefixed 
was  an  epistle,  dated  10th  March,  1675-76,  "To 
my  most  worthy  father  and  friend,  Mr.  Isaak 
Walton,  the  elder,"  in  which  Cotton  says  that  his 
treatise  had  been  hurriedly  written  in  ten  days. 
Nevertheless,  the  "Second  Part"  is  not  unworthy 
of  its  place  beside  the  first.  It  has  been  success- 
fully adapted  to  the  form  of  the  "First  Part,"  and 
though  it  lacks  somewhat  the  peculiar  charm  of  its 
prototype,  it  is  perhaps  rather  better  than  its 
model  when  considered  as  a  book  of  practical  in- 


52  INTRODUCTION 

struction  for  anglers.  At  the  end  of  this  "Second 
Part"  Walton  had  his  publishers  print  the  verses  by 
Cotton  entitled  "The  Retirement"  (which,  Walton 
declared  to  his  friend,  "will  make  any  reader  that 
is  blest  with  a  generous  soul,  to  love  you  the  bet- 
ter), and  also  an  epistle  from  himself  to  Cotton 
which  may  be  quoted  as  one  of  the  few  records  that 
remain  of  the  charming  friendship  between  the  two. 

' 1  To  my  most  Honored  Friend 
"Charles  Cotton,  Esq. 

"Sir, — You  now  see,  I  have  returned  you,  your 
very  pleasant,  and  useful  discourse  of  the  Art  of 
Fli  Fishing  Printed,  just  as  'twas  sent  me:  for  I 
have  been  so  obedient  to  your  desires,  as  to  endure 
all  the  praise  you  have  ventured  to  fix  upon  me  in 
it.  And  when  I  have  thankt  you  for  them,  as  the 
effects  of  an  unassembled  love:  then,  let  me  tell 
you,  Sir,  that  I  will  endeavor  to  live  up  to  the  char- 
acter you  have  given  me,  if  there  were  no  other 
reason ;  yet  for  this  alone,  that  you,  that  love  me  so 
well,  may  not,  for  my  sake,  suffer  by  a  mistake  in 
your  judgment. 

"And,  Sir,  I  have  ventured  to  fill  a  part  of  your 
Margin,  by  way  of  Paraphrase,  for  the  Reader's 
clearer  understanding,  the  situation  both  of  your 
Fishing-House,  and  the  pleasantness  that  you  dwell 
in.  And  I  have  ventured  also  to  give  him  a  copy  of 
Verses,  that  you  were  pleas 'd  to  send  me,  now  some 
years  past;  in  which  he  may  see  a  good  picture  of 
both;  and,  so  much  of  your  own  mind  too,  as  will 
make  any  Reader  that  is  blest  with  a  Generous  soul, 
to  love  you  the  better.  I  confess,  that  for  doing 
this  you  may  justly  judge  me  too  bold :  if  you  do,  I 
will  say  so  too:  and  so  far  commute  my  offence, 
that,  though  I  be  more  than  a  hundred  miles  from 


INTRODUCTION  53 

you,  and  in  the  eighty-third  year  of  my  Age,  yet 
I  will  forget  both,  and  next  begin  a  pilgrimage  to 
beg  your  pardon,  for,  I  would  dye  in  your  favour: 
and  till  then  will  live, 

"Sir, 

"Your  most  affectionate 
"Father  and  Friend, 

"Izaak  Walton. 

"London,  April  29th,  1676." 

The  friendship  of  Cotton  and  Walton  continued 
to  the  latter 's  death.  In  Walton's  will  (dated 
August  16,  1683),  Cotton  was  among  those  named 
to  receive  a  ring  with  the  motto  "A  friend's  fare- 
well." To  the  1675  edition  of  Walton's  "Lives"  Cot- 
ton prefixed  a  copy  of  commendatory  verses  dated 
17th  January,  1672-73,  in  which  he  speaks  of  Walton 
as  "the  best  friend  I  now  or  ever  knew,"  and  in 
the  "Second  Part"  of  the  Angler  he  attempts  with 
humorous  delicacy  to  express  what  the  older  man's 
affection  meant  to  him.  "My  opinion  of  Mr.  Wal- 
ton's Book,"  he  says  in  the  character  of  Piscator, 
Junior,  "is  the  same  with  every  man's  that  under- 
stands anything  of  the  Art  of  Angling,  that  it  is  an 
excellent  good  one,  and  that  the  fore-mentioned 
Gentleman  understands  as  much  of  Fish  and  Fish- 
ing as  any  man  living:  but  I  must  tell  you  farther, 
that  I  have  the  happiness  to  know  his  person,  and  to 
be  intimately  acquainted  with  him,  and  in  him  to 
know  the  worthiest  man  and  to  enjoy  the  best  and 
truest  Friend  any  man  ever  had;  nay,  I  shall  ac- 
quaint you  further,  that  he  gives  me  leave  to  call 
him  father,  and  I  hope  is  not  yet  asham'd  to  own 


54  INTRODUCTION 

me  for  his  adopted  son.  .  .  .  My  father  Walton 
will  be  seen  twice  in  no  man's  company  he  does 
not  like,  and  likes  none  but  such  as  he  believes  to 
be  honest  men,  which  is  one  of  the  best  arguments 
I  have,  that  I  either  am,  or  that  he  thinks  me  one 
of  those,  seeing  I  have  not  yet  found  him  weary  of 
me. ' '  And  how  delightful  the  companionship  of  the 
older  and  the  younger  man  was  may  be  gathered 
from  the  Angler.1  "All  this,"  exclaims  Piscator,  on 
one  occasion,  at  a  bold  suggestion  from  his  pupil, '  '  in 
a  strange  river  and  with  a  fly  of  your  own  making ! 
Why,  what  a  dangerous  man  are  you ! ' ' 
And  Viator  replies : 

"I,  sir,  but  who  taught  me?    Damoetas  says  by 
his  man  Dorus,  (Arcadia)  so  you  may  say  by  me. 

.     .    .     "If  my  man  such  praises  have 
What  then  have  I,  that  taught  the  knave?" 

Cotton's  pleasure  in  the  companionship  is  further 
expressed  in  his  verses  inviting  Walton  to  visit 
Beresford. 

"If  the  all-ruling  Powers  please 
We  live  to  see  another  May, 
We'll  recompense  an  Age  of  these 
Foul  days  in  one  fine  fishing  day. 

A  day  without  too  bright  a  Beam, 

A  warm,  but  not  a  scorching  sun, 
A  southern  gale  to  curl  the  stream, 

And  (master)  half  our  work  is  done. 
•  •  •  • 

iThe  Complete  Angler,  ed.  Hawkins,  p.  37. 


INTRODUCTION  55 

We'll  think  ourselves  in  such  an  hour 
Happier  than  those,  though  not  so  high, 

Who,  like  Leviathans,  devour 
Of  meaner  men  the  smaller  Fry. 

This  (my  best  Friend)  at  my  poor  Home 
Shall  be  our  Pastime  and  our  Theme, 

But  then  should  you  not  deign  to  come 
You  make  all  this  a  flattering  Dream. " 

We  cannot,  perhaps,  resist  the  hope  that  the  poet 
enjoyed  in  Walton's  company  more  than  one  such 
reprieve  from  the  worry  of  debt,  the  drudgery  of 
hack-work,  and  the  uncongenial  task  of  forcing  his 
Muse  to  make  faces  at  herself  in  burlesque.  What 
at  times  this  worry  and  drudgery  meant  to  him  we 
get  a  hint  from  verses  like  these : l 


"  Fy !    What  a  wretched  World  is  this  T 

Nothing  but  anguish,  griefs  and  fears, 
Where,  who  does  best,  must  do  amiss, 
Frailty  the  Euling  Power  bears 
In  this  our  dismal  Vale  of  Tears. 

II. 

Oh !  who  would  live,  that  could  but  dye, 
Dye  honestly,  and  as  he  shou'd, 

Since  to  contend  with  misery 
Will  do  the  wisest  Man  no  good, 
Misfortune  will  not  be  withstood. 

Grant  me  then,  Heav'n,  a  wilderness, 
And  there  an  endless  Solitude, 

iThe  World:   Poems,  1689,  p.  291. 


56  INTRODUCTION 

Where  though  Wolves  howl,  and  Serpents  hiss, 
Though  dang'rous,  'tis  not  half  so  rude 
As  the  ungovern'd  Multitude. 

And  Solitude  in  a  dark  Cave, 

Where  all  things  husht,  and  silent  be, 

Eesembleth  so  the  quiet  Grave, 
That  there  I  would  propose  to  flee, 
With  Death,  that  hourly  waits  for  me." 

Such  contemplative  poems  as  "The  Retirement,"  1 
"To  my  dear  and  most  worthy  Friend,  Mr.  Isaak 
Walton,"2  "Contentment,"3  "To  Mr.  John  Brad- 
shaw,  Esq.,"4  and  "Poverty"5  belong  without 
doubt  to  this  latter  period  of  the  poet's  life;  to  the 
years,  say,  between  1670  and  1680.  But  his  vivacity 
is  unexhausted;  in  an  "Anacreontic,"  written  1680, 
— when  he  was  "fifty  Winters  old," — we  find  him 
singing, 

"Fill  a  Bowl  of  lusty  Wine, 
Briskest  Daughter  of  the  Vine; 
Fill't  untill  it  Sea-like  flow, 
That  my  cheek  may  once  more  glow. 

Wine  breeds  Mirth,  and  mirth  imparts 
Heat  and  Courage  to  our  hearts, 
Which  in  old  men  else  are  lead, 
And  not  warm'd  would  soon  be  dead." 

In  1681,  he  published  "The  Wonders  of  the  Peak," 
a  descriptive  poem  somewhat  after  the  manner  of 
Hobbes'  "De  Mirabilibus  Pecci,"  and  dedicated  to 

1  Poems,  1689,  p.   133.  *  Ibid.,  p.  59. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  114.  6  Ibid.,  p.  303. 
a  Ibid.,  p.  331. 


INTRODUCTION  57 

"  Elizabeth,  Countess  of  Devonshire,  with  all  ac- 
knowledgment and  devotion. "  The  pictures  in  this 
poem  are  often  vividly  clear,  and  the  legends  con- 
nected with  some  of  the  "  wonders "  are  told  with 
spirit  and  humor.  Burlesque  and  real  admiration 
are  quaintly  mingled.  The  poet  knew  his  public, 
and  here  again,  yielded  to  its  taste. 

In  1685-6  he  published  his  translation  of  Mon- 
taigne 's  Essays,  dedicating  it  to  George  Savile, 
Marquis  (or  at  that  time  Earl)  of  Halifax.  It 
ranks  among  the  acknowledged  masterpieces  of 
translation. 

Cotton  died  in  February,  1687,  four  years  after 
the  death  of  his  old  friend  Walton.  The  entry 
"1686-1687,  Feb.  16,  Charles  Cotton"  appears  in 
the  burial  register  of  St.  James,  Piccadilly.  A  con- 
temporary MS.  diary  (quoted  by  Oldys)  records 
that  the  poet  died  of  a  fever  when  in  his  fifty-sixth 
year. 

It  seems  almost  certain — from  the  evidence  which 
follows — that  the  epistle,1  addressed  to  the  Earl  of 

,  was  written  near  the  end  of  the  poet's  life. 

He  enjoyed  at  that  time  the  close  friendship  of  the 
brilliant  George  Savile,  Earl  (afterwards  Marquis) 
of  Halifax,  to  whom  as  we  have  seen  he  dedicated 
his  "  Montaigne. "  Bits  of  description  of  the  Earl 
of are  entirely  applicable  to  the  Earl  of  Hali- 
fax. The  Earl  was  almost  exactly  of  Cotton's  age, 
and  Cotton  in  this  epistle,  says : 

"We  do  on  our  last  Quarter  go," 

i  Poems,  1689,  p.  274. 


58  INTRODUCTION 

referring  perhaps  to  both  himself  and  the  Earl, 
adding,  of  himself, 

"I  may,  perhaps,  with  much  ado, 
Eub  out  a  Christmas  more  or  two 
Or  if  the  Fates  be  pleas  'd,  a  Score, 
But  never  look  to  keep  one  more. ' ' 

He  must  have  been  at  least  fifty  years  of  age — which 
supposition  would  place  the  poem  sometime  after 
the  year  1680 — in  order  to  have  passed,  or  to  have 
been  upon  the  point  of  passing  into  the  "last  quar- 
ter "  of  life.  But  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  he 
was  some  years  older,  for,  a  "Collection  of  Divert- 
ing Sayings,  Stories,  characters,  etc.,"  in  verse  and 
prose,  supposed  to  have  been  made  by  him  about 
the  year  1686  and,  after  his  death  found  in  manu- 
script in  the  library  of  the  Earl  of  Halifax,  seems 
to  fit  remarkably  well  into  the  following  quotation 
from  the  epistle  we  are  speaking  of : 

1 1  Some  three  Months  hence,  I  make  account 
My  Spur-galPd  Pegasus  to  mount, 
When,  whither  I  intend  to  go, 
My  Horse,  as  well  as  I,  will  Know ; 
But  being  got  with  much  ado, 
Out  of  the  reach  a  Stage  or  two, 
Though  not  the  conscience  of  my  shame, 
And  Pegasus  falPn  desperate  lame, 
I  shake  my  stirrups,  and  forsake  him, 
Leaving  him  to  the  next  will  take  him ; 
Not  that  I  set  so  lightly  by  him, 
Would  any  be  so  kind  to  buy  him ; 
But  that  I  think  those  who  have  seen 
How  ill  my  Muse  has  mounted  been, 
Would  certainly  take  better  heed, 


INTRODUCTION  59 

Than  to  bid  money  for  her  Steed. 
Being  then  on  foot,  away  I  go, 
And  bang  the  hoof,  in  cognito, 
Though  in  condition  so  forlorn, 
Little  Disguise  will  serve  the  turn." 

That  in  1686  the  poet  was  still  living  upon  his  estate 
seems  to  appear  from  an  item  in  Plat's  "Natural 
History  of  Staff ordshire " — a  work  licensed  to  be 
printed  in  April,  1686 — which  mentions  the  author's 
"most  worthy  friend,  the  worshipful  Charles  Cot- 
ton of  Beresford,  Esquire, "  and  "his  pleasant  man- 
sion at  Beresford. ' '  But  only  a  year  later,  the  poet 
had  died  in  obscure  circumstances  in  London.  The 
touching  epistle  to  Lord  Halifax  would  seem  then  to 
have  been  written  on  the  eve  of  his  final  departure 
from  Beresford.  The  following  lines  from  it  furnish 
their  own  comment  upon  the  circumstances  that  had 
fallen  out  for  him,  as  well  as  upon  his  quality  of 
courage : 

1 '  We  do  on  our  last  Quarter  go, 
And  that  I  may  go  bravely  out, 
Am  trowling  merry  Bowl  about, 
To  Lord,  and  Lady,  that  and  this, 
As  nothing  were  at  all  amiss, 
When  after  twenty  days  are  past, 
Poor  Charles  has  eat  and  drunk  his  last. 

No  more  Plum-porridge  then,  or  Pye, 
No  Brawn  with  Branch  of  Eosemary, 
No  chine  of  Beef,  enough  to  make 
The  tallest  Yeoman's  chine  to  Crack; 
No  bag-pipe  humming  in  the  Hall, 
Nor  noise  of  House-keeping  at  all, 


60  INTRODUCTION 

Nor  sign,  by  which  it  may  be  said, 
This  House  was  once  inhabited. " 

It  was  a  farewell  spoken  with  his  old  cheerful 
smile,  but  it  has  a  wistful  cadence  of  regret. 

In  the  act  of  administration  of  Cotton's  effects, 
one  Elizabeth  Bludworth  was  mentioned  as  his  prin- 
cipal creditor  (Beresford  Cotton,  Esq.;  the  honor- 
able Mary,  Countess-Dowager  of  Ardglass,  his 
widow;  Olive  Cotton,  Catherine  Cotton,  Jane  Cot- 
ton, and  Mary  Cotton,  his  natural  and  lawful  chil- 
dren first  renouncing)  and  was  dated  12  Septem- 
ber, 1687.  Beresford  Cotton,  his  son  and  heir,  was 
living  at  Nottingham,  11  January,  1688,  as  the  fol- 
lowing baptismal  entry  in  the  parish  register  of 
St.  Mary  shows:  "Stanhope,  son  of  Mr.  Berris- 
ford  Cotton  and  Katherine."  Beresford  became  a 
captain  in  the  army  under  William  the  Third ;  Olive 
married  the  well-known  divine  and  writer,  George 
Stanhope,  Dean  of  Canterbury;  Katherine  married 
Sir  Berkeley  Lucy  of  Braxbourne ;  Mary  became  the 
wife  of  Augustus  Armstrong;  Jane  married  Beau- 
mont Perkyns  of  Sutton  Bonington,  and  was  the 
mother  of  Lucy,  Countess  of  Northampton. 

At  the  time  of  Cotton's  death,  he  was  at  work 
on  a  translation  of  "The  Memoirs  of  Monsieur  de 
Pontis,  who  served  in  the  French  Army  fifty-six 
years,  under  Henry  IV,  Lewis  VIII,  and  Lewis 
XIV,  Kings  of  France,  containing  many  remarkable 
passages  relating  to  the  War,  the  Court,  and  the 
Government  to  those  Princes. "  He  was  engaged, 
then,  to  the  end  of  his  life  in  supplying  his  public 


INTRODUCTION  61 

with  parallels  to  the  evils  of  the  time  in  England  by 
means  of  translations  from  the  French.  Since  the 
time  of  Oliver,  royalists  of  a  contemplative  turn  had 
fallen  back  on  history  and  philosophy  for  encourage- 
ment, and  example.  In  "Pastor  Fido,"  1647,  a 
copy  of  which  Cotton  is  known  to  have  possessed  in 
his  youth,  Sir  Richard  Fanshaw  explains  his  pur- 
pose in  translating  as  being  that  of  furnishing  his 
Prince  with  "the  image  of  a  gasping  state  (once 
the  most  flourishing  in  the  world) :  A  wild  Boar 
(the  sword)  depopulating  the  Country:  the  Pesti- 
lence unpeopling  the  Towns:  their  gods  themselves 
in  the  merciless  humane  Sacrifices  exacting  bloody 
contributions  from  both:  .  .  .  Because  it  seems 
to  me  (beholding  it  at  the  best  light)  a  Lantskip 
of  those  Kingdoms  (your  Royall  Patrimony),  as 
well  in  the  former  flourishing,  as  the  purest  dis- 
tractions, thereof,  I  thought  it  not  improper  for 
your  Princely  notice  at  this  time,  thereby  to  oc- 
casion your  Highness,  even  in  your  recreations,  to 
reflect  upon  the  sad  Originall,  not  without  hope 
to  see  it  yet  speedily  made  a  perfect  parallel 
through-out;  and  also  your  self  a  great  Instrument 
of  it."  This  purpose  must  have  been  Cotton 's  like- 
wise in  his  heroic  poem,  "The  Battail  of  Yvry," 
written  about  1658,  in  which  a  French  prince,  traitor- 
ously dispossessed  of  his  rights,  is  shown  trium- 
phantly regaining  them  at  last.  The  poem  ends  with 
a  couplet  which  is  obviously  an  allusion  to  Cotton's 
exiled  Prince: — 

"Leaving  Fair  France  unto  his  brighter  Ray — 
May  ev'ry  injured  Prince  have  such  a  day." 


62  INTRODUCTION 

In  this  connection,  Cotton's  translation  of  "The 
Moral  Philosophy  of  the  Stoics, "  from  the  French 
of  Du  Voix  is  significant.  It  was  done,  as  seems 
probable  from  the  dedication  to  his  friend  and  kins- 
man, John  Ferrers,  a  year  or  two  before  the  Restora- 
tion. And,  indeed,  the  fine  ode  to  "Winter,"  though 
of  course  not  a  translation,  seems  to  bear  interpre- 
tation as  a  political  satire.  Furthermore,  Cotton, 
in  his  dedication  of  the  "Duke  of  Espernon,"  em- 
phasizes the  fact  that  "a  more  Illustrious  Image 
of  Virtue,  and  Honour  than  is  here  represented  in 
the  Person  of  the  Duke  of  Espernon,  in  my  little 
Reading  I  have  nowhere  met  with,  a  more  exem- 
plary Piety,  a  braver  Courage,  a  more  shining  and 
unblemished  Loyalty,  more  inviolate  Friendships, 
nor  a  nobler  Constancy  in  all  the  shocks  of  Fortune 
.  .  .  ' '  And  finally,  the  translation  of  Montaigne 
came  at  a  time  when  the  example  of  that  gentle 
skeptic  might  be  expected  to  do  much  toward  abat- 
ing the  fanaticism  of  a  hundred  warring  factions. 
Under  the  circumstances  of  the  time,  a  safer  and 
more  effectual  way  of  criticism  is  hard  to  imagine, 
or  one  more  in  accord  with  both  Cotton's  gentle- 
ness and  his  courage. 

Two  years  after  the  poet's  death,  an  unauthor- 
ized collection  of  his  occasional  poems  was  published. 
This  volume  is  to  be  considered  at  length  in  the  fol- 
lowing section.  For  the  present,  we  may  say  of 
these  poems,  what  he  himself  has  said  of  certain 
passages  in  the  life  of  the  admirable  Duke  of  Es- 
pernon, that,  though  they  are  not  "altogether  to  be 


INTRODUCTION  63 

justified, "  there  are  "none  that  may  not  be  slipt 
over  amongst  so  many  better  pages,  like  a  Counter- 
feit piece  in  a  great  summe  of  current  gold." 


THE  POETEY  OF  CHAELES  COTTON 

The  volume  of  miscellaneous  verse,  entitled 
11  Poems  on  Several  Occasions,"  was  published  in 
1689,  two  years  after  the  poet's  death.  The  pub- 
lisher's preface  to  Cotton's  translation  of  the  "Mem- 
ories of  the  Sieur  de  Pontis,"  1694,  asserts  that  the 
poet  had  himself  made  a  collection  of  his  poems  for 
the  press,  but  that,  owing  to  the  "  ungenerous  pro- 
ceeding" of  a  piratical  publisher,  the  printing  of  this 
authentic  edition  had  been  prevented.  The  collection 
of  1689  shows  haste  in  compilation;  no  fewer  than 
nineteen  poems  appear  twice,  and  the  typography 
throughout  is  so  careless,  especially  in  respect  to 
the  pointing,  that  one's  impression  in  reading  is  fre- 
quently confused,  or  blurred.  Nevertheless,  after  a 
careful  consideration  of  the  volume,  evidences  of  de- 
liberate intention  in  the  arrangement  of  certain 
groups  of  poems  give  rise  to  the  surmise  that  here, 
after  all,  we  have  the  authentic  collection  referred  to 
in  the  preface  to  the  '  '  Memories  of  the  Sieur  de  Pon- 
tis."  This  is  a  surmise,  however,  which  cannot  be 
verified. 

The  volume  may  be  considered  as  having  two  main 
divisions.  The  first  comprises,  for  the  most  part, 
original  poems;  the  second  is  made  up  altogether 
of  translations.  The  original  poems,  exclusive  of 
the  repetitions  referred  to  above,  number  175;  the 
translations,  80.  The  original  poems  may  be  classi- 

64 


POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON    65 

fied  under  the  following  types :  Amorous  lyrics,  in- 
cluding odes  and  elegies,  number  59;  Pindaric  odes 
of  the  Cowleyan  variety,  7;  sonnets,  10;  songs,  10; 
epigrams,  16;  epitaphs,  5;  burlesque  epistles,  and 
descriptive  and  narrative  burlesques  (in  which  are 
to  be  found  much  important  biographical  data),  17; 
eclogues,  2;  sets  of  lines,  9;  satires,  3;  convivial 
lyrics,  3;  paraphrases,  3;  heroic  poems,  2;  one  dia- 
logue and  one  Christmas  hymn;  and  finally,  seven 
important  miscellaneous  lyrics,  including  i  '  The  New- 
year  "  and  "The  Retirement. " 

The  translations  are  from  the  Latin,  the  Italian 
and  the  French.  The  French  translations  are  of 
particular  interest,  and  a  subsequent  part  of  this 
section  is  devoted  to  them.  For  the  moment,  it  is 
sufficient  to  remark  that  the  headings  of  not  a  few 
of  the  original  poems  point  to  French  models,  as 
for  instance,  Les  Amours,  Estrennes,  rondeau,  viri- 
lai;  the  word  epigramme  is  used  to  indicate  a  poem 
not  identical  with  the  English  epigram,  and  the 
phrase  "stanzas  irreguliers ' '  is  employed  as  sub- 
title for  such  poems  as  "The  Retirement." 

But  before  taking  up  the  discussion  of  Cotton 's 
indebtedness  to  the  French,  it  will  be  best  to  con- 
sider certain  native  influences.  Some  of  these  have 
left  only  slight  traces  on  his  work.  Traces  of  the 
so-called  "Metaphysical  School' '  are  rare,  even  the 
Cowleyan  odes  being  almost  as  simple  and  direct 
as  poetic  expression  can  be.  The  conceit,  when  em- 
ployed, lacks  serious  intention.  It  is  generally  a 
playful  touch,  as  in  the  last  stanza  of  the  song  be- 
ginning, "Join  once  again,  my  Celia,  Join": — 


66    POETRY  OF  CHAELES  COTTON 

"Thanks,  sweetest,  now  thou'rt  perfect  grown, 
For  by  this  last  kiss  I'm  undone; 

Thou  breathest  silent  darts, 
Henceforth  each  little  touch  will  prove 
A  dangerous  strategem  in  love, 

And  thou  wilt  blow  up  hearts. ' ' 

Taking  Cotton's  poetry  all  in  all,  the  conceit  occurs 
so  infrequently  that  the  influence  of  the  metaphysi- 
cal poets  upon  him  is  almost  negligible.  Likewise, 
it  may  be  said  that  the  cynicism  which  was  preva- 
lent in  his  time  left  no  deep  impress  on  his  work. 
When  he  does  give  expression  to  that  mood,  the  re- 
sult is  a  rough  badinage  which  has  difficulty  in 
keeping  its  tone,  and  which  invariably  gives  way  in 
the  end  to  obvious  good-humour.  In  "Love's  Tri- 
umph, "  for  example,  he  starts  off  bravely  enough: 

"God  Cupid's  Power  was  ne're  so  shown 
Since  first  the  Boy  could  draw  a  bow, 
In  all  past  Ages,  as  this  one, 

This  love-sick  Age  we  live  in  now; 
Now  He  and  She  from  high  to  low, 
Or  Lovers  are,  or  would  seem  so." 

He  goes  on,  indeed,  to  malign  these  too  easy  lov- 
ers, the  young,  the  old,  the  foul,  the  fair;  but  in 
the  end,  as  the  hearty  ring  of  the  denunciation  has 
all  along  suggested,  he  is  discovered  to  be  only  mock 
serious : 

*  *  And  yet  there  is,  there  is  one  prize, 
Lock'd  in  an  adamantine  Breast; 
Storm  that  then,  Love,  if  thou  be  'st  wise, 
A  conquest  above  all  the  rest, 


POETRY  OF  CHAELES  COTTON    67 

Her  Heart,  who  binds  all  Hearts  in  chains, 
Castanna's  Heart  untouched  remains." 

So  it  is,  over  and  over  again;  the  discord  is  but 
preparation  for  the  harmony.  In  brief,  Cotton  is 
too  much  a  realist,  in  the  best  sense  of  that  term,  to 
be  cynical ;  he  is  too  catholic  in  his  sympathies,  and 
too  humorous.  This  same  manliness  of  temper 
saved  him,  moreover,  from  another  affectation  of 
his  day,  that  of  Platonic  love.  Here  again,  how- 
ever, as  in  the  case  of  the  conceit  and  of  the  fash- 
ionable attitude  of  cynicism,  he  is  not  above  mak- 
ing incidental  use  of  the  cult  of  Platonic  love,  and 
its  vagaries.  He  makes  it  serve  his  turn,  now  and 
then,  by  way  of  graceful  compliment.  In  the  song, 
already  quoted  from,  "Join  once  again,  etc.,"  we 
find  the  following  example : 

"Each  Kiss  of  thine  creates  desire, 
Thy  odorous  Breath  inflames  Love's  fire, 

And  wakes  the  sleeping  coal : 
Such  a  Kiss  to  be  I  find 
The  conversation  of  the  Mind, 

And  whisper  of  the  Soul. ' ' 

In  this  stanza,  the  quaint  blending  of  sensuous 
and  Platonic  love,  with  its  suggestion  of  double 
entente,  is  worth  observing,  since  it  directs  us  to 
Cotton's  ultimate  attitude  toward  love. 

Among  the  native  influences,  under  which  he 
wrote,  by  far  the  most  important  was  the  sensuous 
hedonism  of  Carew.  What  in  Carew  especially 
attracted  Cotton  was  the  value  the  hedonist  at- 


68    POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON 

tached  to  the  fleeting  and  irrevocable  present. 
Carew  sings  in  "Persuasions  to  Love," 

"0  love  me,  then,  and  now  begin  it, 
Let  us  not  lose  this  precious  minute ; 
For  time  and  age  will  work  that  wrack 
Which  time  and  age  can  ne'er  call  back." 

And  Cotton  in  the  ode  "To  Ccelia"  x  strikes  almost 
precisely  the  same  note : 

"111  Husbandry  in  Love  is  such 
A  scandal  to  Love's  pow'r, 
We  ought  not  to  misspend  so  much 
As  one  poor  short-liv'd  hour." 

Carew  writes  again, 

1 '  0  then,  be  wise,  and  whilst  your  season 
Affords  you  days  for  sport,  do  reason; 
Spend  not  in  vain  your  life's  short  hour." 

And  Cotton,  on  his  part,  pleads, 

"What  such  a  love  deserves,  thou,  sweet, 
As  knowing  best,  may'st  best  reward; 
I,  for  thy  bounty  well  prepared 
With  open  arms  my  blessing  meet. 
Then  do  not,  dear,  our  joys  detard ; 
But  unto  him  propitious  be 
That  knows  no  love,  nor  life,  but  thee. ' ' 

This  note  is  struck  frequently  by  both  Cotton  and 
Carew.  But  the  evidences  of  Carew 's  influence  do 
not  stop  with  this.  A  somewhat  casual  survey  of 
Carew 's  poems  for  points  of  resemblance  between 
him  and  Cotton  has  yielded  the  following  possible 

i  Poems,  1689,  p.  8. 


POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON    69 

comparisons  (in  point  of  theme) :  Carew's  "  Secrecy 
Protested"  with  Cotton's  "Sonnet"  (How  should 'st 
thou  love,  and  not  offend);  Carew's  "A  Prayer 
to  the  Wind"  with  Cotton's  ode  "Laura  Sleeping"; 
Carew's  "Mediocrity  in  Love  Rejected"  with  Cot- 
ton's ode  "To  Chloris";1  Carew's  "Good  Counsel 
to  a  Young  Maid"  and  his  second,  "Good  Coun- 
sel to  a  Young  Maid"  with  Cotton's  "Old  Tityrus 
to  Eugenia";  Carew's  "To  Her  Absence,  A  Ship," 
with  Cotton's  "The  Tempest";  Carew's  "To  the 
Painter"  with  Cotton's  "To  My  Friend,  Mr.  Lely." 
These  comparisons  include  only  obvious  cases. 
When  subtle  resemblances,  such  as  the  pace  and  turn 
of  verse,  the  pitch  of  emotion,  and  the  poetic  quality, 
are  taken  into  account  the  indebtedness  of  Cotton  to 
Carew  is  seen  to  be  more  than  superficial.  A  reader 
fresh  from  a  perusal  of  Carew  finds  many  echoes  of 
his  music  in  the  amorous  lyrics  of  Cotton. 

Now,  let  us  turn  to  an  important  difference  be- 
tween them.  Cotton  is  often,  for  a  moment,  as 
hedonistic  as  Carew;  but  the  mood  with  Cotton  is 
not  a  prevailing  one.  It  is  frequently  recurrent, 
but  not  persistent.  Here,  once  more  it  must  be  said, 
Cotton's  keen  sense  of  reality  will  not  permit  him  to 
rest  secure  with  "this  precious  minute."  He  is 
usually  found  poised  somewhere  between  the  im- 
petuosity of  desire  and  the  cool  circumspection  of 
good  sense.  In  the  ode  "To  Isabel,"  over  against 
the  impetuosity  of 

"Then  do  not,  dear,  our  joy  detard;" 

i  Poems,  1689,  p.  55. 


70    POETEY  OF  CHAELES  COTTON 

we  find  this  expression  of  carefully  evaluated  feel- 
ing: 

"But  when  I  vow  to  thee  I  do 

Love  thee  above,  or  health,  or  peace, 
Gold,  joy,  and  all  such  toys  as  these, 
'Bove  happiness  and  honor  too : 
Thou  then  must  know,  this  love  can  cease, 
Nor  change,  for  all  the  glorious  show 
Wealth  and  discretion  bribe  us  to." 

This  mood  is  clearly  different  from  the  hedonism 
of  Carew;  and  with  Cotton  it  is  the  predominating 
mood.  As  may  be  seen  from  the  following  quota- 
tion from  Davenant's  preface  to  Gondibert  (1650), 
this  attitude  of  Cotton  was  not  unrecognized  in 
the  criticism  of  his  day.  "Love,"  says  Davenant, 
"in  the  Interpretation  of  the  Envious,  is  Softness; 
in  the  Wicked,  good  men  suspect  it  for  lust;  and 
in  the  Good,  some  spiritual  men  have  given  it  the 
name  of  Charity.  And  these  are  but  terms  to  this 
which  seems  a  more  considered  definition,  that  in- 
definite Love  is  Lust,  and  Lust  when  it  is  deter- 
min'd  to  one  is  Love.  .  .  .  They  who  accuse 
Poets  as  provokers  of  Love  are  enemies  to  Nature ; 
and  all  affronts  to  Nature  are  offences  to  God,  as 
insolences  to  all  subordinate  officers  of  the  Crown 
are  rudeness  to  the  King.  Love,  in  the  most  ob- 
noxious interpretation,  is  Nature's  Preparative  to 
her  greatest  work,  which  is  the  making  of  Life. 
And  since  the  severest  Divines  of  these  latter  times 
have  not  been  asham'd  publiquely  to  commend  and 
define  the  most  secret  dutys  and  entertainments  of 
Love  in  the  Married,  why  should  not  poets  civilly 


POETRY  OF  CHAELES  COTTON    71 

endeavor  to  make  a  Friendship  between  the  Guests 
before  they  meet,  by  teaching  them  to  dignifie  each 
other  with  the  utmost  of  estimation?  And  Mar- 
riage in  Mankinde  were  as  rude  and  unprepared 
as  the  hasty  election  of  other  Creatures,  but  for 
acquaintance,  and  conversation  before  it,  and  that 
must  be  an  acquaintance  of  Mindes,  not  of  bodye; 
and  of  the  Minde  Poesy  is  the  most  natural  and  de- 
lightful Interpreter/'  Let  us  compare  with  this, 
the  second  stanza  of  Cotton 's  "Estrennes  to 
Calista":1 

"Love  is  the  Soul  of  Life,  though  that  I  know 
Is  calPd  Soul  too,  but  yet  it  is  not  so, 
Not  rational  at  least,  untill 

Beauty  with  her  diviner  light 
Illuminates  the  groping  will, 

And  shews  us  how  to  chuse  aright 
And  that's  first  prov'd  by  th'  objects  it  refuses, 
And  by  being  constant  then  to  that  it  chuses." 

Cotton's  attitude  toward  love,  then,  it  may  be 
repeated,  was  not  that  of  the  cynic  who  denied  the 
divinity  of  love  altogether,  nor  was  it  that  of  the 
Platonic  idealist  who  detached  worthy  love  en- 
tirely from  the  sensuous.  Cotton's  attitude  is  ex- 
pressed succinctly  in  his  words,  "Love  is  the  soul 
of  life. ' '  His  mood  in  its  sensuousness  has  much  in 
common  with  that  of  Carew;  but  it  is  after  all  es- 
sentially different,  for  he  affirms  that, 

* '  Love  by  swift  time,  which  sickly  passions  dread, 
Is  no  more  measur'd  than  'tis  limited;" 

i  Poems,  1689,  p.   162. 


72    POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON 

These  two  moods, — one  almost  identical  with  the 
prevailing  mood  of  Carew,  and  the  other  almost  dia- 
metrically opposed  to  that  poet's  hedonism, — Cot- 
ton tries  to  harmonize.  At  least,  if  he  does  not 
consciously  try  to  harmonize  them,  he  habitually 
brings  them  into  juxtaposition,  as  if  he  intended 
thus  to  suggest  a  quality  of  love  which  otherwise 
he  found  inexpressible.  In  a  word,  he  tries  to  find 
a  point  of  stability  between  the  impulse  to  see  and  de- 
scribe things  as  they  actually  are,  and  the  idealiz- 
ing impulse  to  extenuate  and  veil.  He  attempts  to 
harmonize  clean  and  sane  knowledge  both  of  himself 
and  of  others  with  the  intoxicating  buoyancy  of  love. 
These  two  antagonistic  moods,  dramatically  contend- 
ing for  mastery,  give  warmth  and  vital  interest  to 
the  amorous  lyrics  of  Cotton. 

His  translations  from  the  French  throw  light 
upon  his  significance  as  a  lyrical  poet.  There  is  a 
note  in  his  work  which  is  hard  to  account  for,  if 
one  considers  only  his  immediate  predecessors  and 
his  contemporaries  at  home.  That  French  litera- 
ture, poetry  and  prose,  appealed  to  him  with  unus- 
ual power,  there  is  much  evidence  to  prove.  His 
interest  in  the  French  lyrists  began  probably  a  good 
while  before  his  journey  to  France  in  1655,  and 
throughout  his  life  thereafter  he  was  employed 
from  time  to  time  either  in  translating,  or  in  adapt- 
ing, from  the  French. 

Desportes  (1546-1606)  and  Bertaut  (1552-1611), 
two  minor  Ronsardists,  are  the  earliest  of  the 
French  lyrists  to  find  a  place  in  his  translations. 
Each  is  represented  by  a  single  poem,  the  one  from 


POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON    73 

Desportes  an  fipigramme  of  five  stanzas,  "Some 
four  years  ago  I  made  Phillis  an  offer,"  l  and  that 
from  Bertaut,  a  set  of  five  stances,  "Whilst  wishing 
Heaven  in  his  ire. ' ' 2 

A  comparison  of  the  translation  of  the  Epi- 
gramme  of  Desportes  with  its  original  reveals  the 
fact  that  the  translation  is  hardly  more  than  a 
rough  paraphrase.  The  well-bred  restraint  of  the 
original  has  given  place  in  the  translation  to  a  tone 
of  rollicking  bravado.  Cotton  has  missed  the  spirit 
of  the  original  almost  altogether.  Here,  as  else- 
where, in  spite  of  his  liking  for  the  French,  he  is 
essentially  English:  more  than  once  in  his  transla- 
tions he  seems  almost  consciously  to  assert  his  pride 
in  his  nationality  by  naming  bluntly  what  he  per- 
haps takes  to  be,  let  us  say,  an  insincere  delicacy  in 
the  French.  It  may  be  doubted  whether  "hearty, 
cheerful  Mr.  Cotton"  could  ever  have  appreciated 
at  its  full  value  the  satiric  verve  and  the  subtle, 
seemingly  innocent  malice  of  Desportes.  There 
were  other  qualities  in  the  French  lyrist  which  Cot- 
ton could  have  appreciated.  If  he  had  translated 
more  from  him,  he  might,  when  the  occasion  rose, 
have  rendered  with  much  effect  Desportes'  tender 
sensibility  and  picturesqueness.  But  he  did  not, 
so  far  as  his  publications  show,  put  himself  in  the 
way  of  that  opportunity.  In  only  one  respect  does 
it  seem  that  this  French  lyrist  may  have  influenced 
Cotton's  original  work.  Both  are  fond  of  the  mili- 
tary figure.  Cotton's  employment  of  it,  as  for  in- 
stance in  the  "Ode  to  Winter,"  may  owe  some- 

i  Poems,  1689,  p.  165.  2  ibid.,  p.   147. 


74    POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON 

thing  to  Desportes.  There  had,  however,  been 
plenty  of  precedent  for  it  in  English  verse,  at  least 
after  the  time  of  Spenser;  though  it  should  he  re- 
membered that,  as  Mr.  Sydney  Lee  has  shown, 
Spenser  himself  owed  much  to  the  influence  of  the 
writings  of  Desportes.  With  this  possible  excep- 
tion of  the  employment  of  military  imagery,  it  is 
hard  to  find  specific  traces  of  the  influence  of  Des- 
portes upon  Cotton's  own  work. 

The  translation  from  Bertaut,  unlike  that  from 
Desportes,  is  a  conscientious  translation,  and  serves 
as  an  admirable  illustration  of  the  characteristic 
qualities  of  this  French  poet, — namely,  his  liking  for 
antithesis,  paradox,  and  pointe: 

"Whilst  wishing  Heaven  in  his  ire 
Would  punish  with  some  judgment  dire 
This  heart  to  love  so  obstinate; 
To  say  I  love  her  is  to  lie, 
Though  I  do  love  t'  extremity, 
Since  thus  to  love  her  is  to  hate." 

Through  five  stanzas  variations  are  made  upon 
this  paradox,  in  the  end  the  powers  being  petitioned 
to  grant  the  lover, 

"Both  for  my  punishment  and  grace, 
That,  as  I  do,  she  love  and  hate." 

This  is  a  note  that  has  been  struck  more  than  once 
by  Cotton  himself.  An  example  is  this  stanza  from 
"Les  Amours":1 

i  Poems,  1689,  p.  380. 


POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON    75 

1 1  She,  that  I  pursue,  still  flies  me ; 
Her  that  follows  me,  I  fly ; 
She,  that  I  still  court,  denies  me ; 
Her  that  courts  me,  I  deny. 
Thus  in  one  Web  we're  subtly  wove, 
And  yet  we  mutiny  in  love." 

And  for  another  instance,  take  the  third  stanza  from 
Cotton's  fine  "Ode":1 

"And  must  I  then  be  damn't  from  Bliss 
For  valuing  the  blessing  more, 
Be  wretched  made  through  Happiness, 
And  by  once  being  rich  more  poor?" 

This  "Ode"  is  one  which,  in  conception,  is  pecul- 
iarly Cotton's  own;  yet,  like  "Les  Amours"  and  the 
ode  "To  Celia,"  it  shows  unmistakably,  in  detail, 
the  influence  of  Bertaut. 

Bertaut  and  Desportes  were  evidently  not  great 
favorites  with  Cotton.  Their  effect  upon  him  seems 
mainly  a  superficial  effect  upon  his  poetic  practice, 
and  yet  they  had  in  one  fundamental  respect  a  close 
resemblance  to  him.  Like  him,  they  were  eclectic  or 
transitional  poets,  being  in  close  touch  with  the  pass- 
ing school  and  at  the  same  time  foreshadowing  the 
abatement  of  poetic  fervor  which  (under  the  influ- 
ence of  Malherbe)  was  soon  to  follow.  Like  him, 
they  were  members  of  no  school.  At  any  rate,  they 
were  the  least  typical  of  their  school.  There  would 
seem,  thus,  to  have  been  a  certain  affinity  between 
these  two  poets  and  Cotton,  and  it  is  possible  that 

i  Poems,   1689,  p.  212. 


76    POETEY  OF  CHAELES  COTTON 

they  may  have  influenced  him  in  ways  not  easy 
to  trace. 

The  succeeding  school  to  the  Eonsardists  had  its 
leader  in  Malherbe  (1555-1628).  He  set  going  a  re- 
action against  the  Pleiade,  or  Eonsardists,  express- 
ing scorn  for  their  subserviency  to  the  classics,  as 
well  as  for  what  seemed  to  him  their  distraught  en- 
thusiasm. According  to  Balzac,  Malherbe  was  the 
first  to  teach  the  French  that  the  secret  of  eloquence 
lay  in  the  choice  of  thought  and  expression,  and  in 
the  arrangement  of  words  and  ideas  rather  than  in 
the  words  and  ideas  themselves.  In  the  interest  of 
simplicity  and  elegance  he  instituted  reforms  in  ver- 
sification, making  the  line  instead  of  the  stanza  the 
structural  unit.  Malherbe 's  influence  upon  Cotton 
may  be  said  to  have  been  a  superficial  one,  in  the 
sense  that  it  was  an  influence  upon  his  manner  rather 
than  upon  his  poetic  conception. 

The  one  short  poem  which  Cotton  selected  for 
translation  from  Malherbe,  suggests  at  first  glance 
a  distinct  point  of  resemblance  between  the  two 
poets.  It  is  an  epigramme  "Writ  in  Calista's 
Prayer-Book. ' ' 1  The  original  is  as  follows : 

"Tant  que  vous  serez  sans  amour, 
Calista,  priez  nuit  et  jour, 
Vous  n'aurez  point  mesericorde; 
Ce  n'est  pas  que  Dieu  ne  soit  doux: 
Mais  pensez-vous  qu'il  vous  accorde 
Ce  qu'on  ne  peut  de  vous?" 

The  translation  reads : 

i  Poems,   1689,  p.  51. 


POETRY  OF  CHAELES  COTTON    77 

"Whilst  you  are  deaf  to  love,  you  may, 

Fairest  Calista,  weep  and  pray, 
And  yet,  alas !  no  mercy  find, 
Not  but  God's  mercifull,  'tis  true, 
But  can  you  think  he  '11  grant  to  you 
What  you  deny  to  all  mankind !" 

Here,  somewhat  as  in  translating  from  Desportes, 
Cotton  has  evidently  tried  to  heighten  the  effect  of 
the  original  by  introducing  an  exclamation  in  the 
third  line  and  by  giving  in  general  more  rhetori- 
cal pointe  to  the  epigramme.  Otherwise,  except 
in  translating  the  second  line  "Fairest  Calista, 
weep  and  pray,"  instead  of  "Pray  night  and  day," 
the  translation  is  literal. 

But  the  important  point  to  notice  in  comparing 
the  two  is  the  fact  that  here  a  note  is  struck  common 
to  the  poetry  of  both  Cotton  and  Malherbe.  It 
sounds  clearly  in  the  last  three  lines  of  the  transla- 
tion, and  in  the  corresponding  lines  of  the  original. 
It  is  an  appeal  of  the  lover  to  what  purports  to  be 
merely  good  sense  and  justice,  by  means  of  a  cer- 
tain sweet  disputativeness  of  the  heart.  Both 
Malherbe  and  Cotton  make  frequent  use  of  this  ap- 
peal; Malherbe  in  one  instance,  at  least,  has  shown 
himself  to  be  fully  conscious  of  his  attitude : 

"Quant  a  moi,  je  dispute  avant  que  je  m 'engage, 
Mais  quand  je  1'ai  promis,  j'aime  eternellement. "  1 

And  again,  in  another  poem,  after  a  number  of 
stanzas  of  almost  deliberate  disparagement  of  him- 

i  Poesies,  p.   136. 


78    POETRY  OF  CHAELES  COTTON 

self  and  his  affection,  Malherbe  suddenly  queries, 

"Mais  a  quoi  tendent  ces  discours 
0  beaute  qui  de  mes  amours 
Etes  le  port  et  le  naufrage? 
Ce  que  je  dis  contre  ma  f  pi, 
N'est-ce  pas  un  vrai  temoignage 
Que  je  suis  deja  hors  de  moi?" l 

This  standing  aloof  from  passion  to  view  it 
sanely,  and  thus  to  test  its  merits  in  the  court  of 
good-sense,  is  characteristic  of  Malherbe,  even  in 
his  most  fervid  verses,  those  inspired  by 
"Calista,"  the  Vicontesse  d'  Auchy.  The  same 
point  of  view  is  taken  by  Cotton,  also,  time  and 
again.  In  these  lines  from  Cotton's  ode  "To 
Chloris"  2  we  find  an  expression  of  it: 

"Though  I  pretend  to  wrestle  and  repine 
Your  beauties  sweet  are  in  their  height, 
And  I  must  still  adore. " 

So,  too,  in  the  following  lines  from  the  ode  "To 
Love, ' ' 3  after  four  stanzas  of  self -analysis,  he  makes 
a  confident  appeal  for  justice, 

"Raised  to  this  height,  I  have  no  more, 
Almighty  Love,  for  to  implore 
Of  my  auspicious  Stars,  or  Thee, 
Than  that  thou  bow  her  noble  mind 
To  be  as  mercifully  kind 
As  I  shall  ever  faithful  be." 

1  Poesies,  p.  142. 

2  Poems,  1689,  Stances  Irreguliers,  p.  12. 
a  Poems,  1689,  p.  44. 


POETEY  OF  CHAELES  COTTON    79 

And  again,  at  the  end  of  "The  Expostulation "  l  the 
note  is  struck : 

"Whence  then  can  this  change  proceed? 
Say;  or  whither  does  it  tend? 
That  false  heart  will  one  day  bleed, 
When  it  has  brought  so  true  a  Friend 
To  cruel  and  untimely  end." 

It  might  seem  from  these  examples  that  here  we 
have  discovered  between  Malherbe  and  Cotton  an 
identity  of  attitude,  and  perhaps  of  conception. 
Both  make  a  show  of  resisting  love,  as  if  to  compel 
the  emotion  to  prove  itself :  if  it  survives  that  ordeal 
they  press  their  case  as  if  to  do  so  were  almost  com- 
pulsory by  nature, — "like  must  of  necessity  respond 
to  like"  and  love,  above  all,  finds  itself  helpless  to 
resist  its  kind.  But  a  closer  study  of  Cotton  makes 
one  conclude  that  though  he  does  indeed  take  this 
attitude  more  than  once, — prompted  no  doubt  by 
Malherbe  to  its  use  as  a  poetic  device, — it  is  not  a 
deep  nor  a  vitally  characteristic  attitude  with  him. 
With  Malherbe  this  mood  is  the  prevailing  one,  and 
though  at  times,  in  his  most  personal  lyrics,  it  does 
not  seem  to  serve  his  purpose  to  the  best  advantage, 
it  does  serve  most  admirably  when,  vicariously  in- 
spired, he  gives  play  to  that  half -dramatic  gift  by 
means  of  which  he  produced  highly  successful  plaints 
for  his  friends  and  patrons.  Cotton,  unlike  the 
French  poet,  had  no  aptitude  for  vicarious  inspira- 
tion; personal  inspiration  seems  to  have  been  abso- 
lutely necessary  for  his  best  work.  So  that,  among 

i  Poems,  1689,  p.  3. 


80    POETRY  OF  CHAELES  COTTON 

French  lyrists,  Eacan  and  Theophile,  with  their 
natural  egoism,  found  the  deepest  response  in  him. 
But,  nevertheless,  upon  Cotton's  poetic  style  the 
influence  of  Malherbe  seems  clearly  marked.  Mal- 
herbe  stood  for  simplicity  in  poetic  expression.  But 
he  was  not  an  extremist  even  in  this  respect. 
Eather,  in  attempting  to  reach  his  ideal,  he  took  the 
narrow  path  between  preciosity  on  one  hand  and  col- 
loquialism on  the  other.  So  far  as  diction  was  con- 
cerned, his  simplicity  meant  hardly  more  than  cur- 
rent good  usage,  taken  in  a  wide  sense  to  include  the 
usage  common  to  all  classes.  His  poetic  words  were 
to  be  also  good  prose  words,  and  the  specifically 
poetic  values  attached  to  them,  however  they  may 
have  been  acquired,  were  not  to  be  considered.  In 
a  sense  this  attitude  was  truly  simple  and  unaf- 
fected, though  it  was  not,  of  course,  an  elemental 
simplicity  and  naturalness  such  as  Wordsworth  in 
advocating  simplicity  seems  sometimes  to  have  had 
in  mind.  This  simplicity  of  Malherbe,  however,  was 
the  simplicity  of  Cotton.  It  is  especially  so  in  Cot- 
ton's best  work,  as  for  instance  in  "The  Eetire- 
ment,"  and  other  poems  addressed  to  Isaac  Walton, 
in  "The  New  Year,"  the  "Summer  Day  Quat- 
rains, "  and  the  "Ode  to  Winter."  In  these  poems 
the  effect  is  produced  by  means  of  the  harmonious 
arrangement  of  simple  elements.  This  is  true  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  both  Malherbe  and  Cotton  make 
frequent  use  of  classical  personifications.  They  ac- 
cepted that  convention  as  simply  as  they  accepted 
other  conventions  of  current  good  usage. 


POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON    81 

Another  phase  of  similarity  between  Malherbe 
and  Cotton  may  be  mentioned  here,  though  it  is 
hardly  more  than  another  aspect  of  what  has  just 
been  pointed  out.  Malherbe  had  what  may  be  called 
a  keen  illative  sense;  his  poems  progress  step  by 
step  toward  a  goal,  and  if  the  direction  is  not  in 
a  straight  line,  the  deviation  is  explicitly  marked. 
This  method  of  construction  gives  clearness,  or  the 
appearance  of  clearness,  to  his  compositions.  In 
Cotton,  one  finds  a  reflection  of  this  too ;  though  by 
him  it  seems  to  be  hardly  as  seriously  employed  as 
by  Malherbe.  Cotton's  egoism,  one  feels,  is  fre- 
quently restive  behind  this  mask  of  reasonableness. 
At  such  moments,  the  effect  produced  is  quaint  and 
touching.  Beneath  the  clear-voiced  ring  of  lines 
rhetorically  linked  togther,  one  catches  that  peculiar 
undertone  of  wistful  eagerness  which  is  one  of  Cot- 
ton's most  authentic  notes. 

To  recapitulate,  the  two  aspects  of  Cotton's  verse 
that  may  with  some  degree  of  certainty  be  ascribed 
to  the  influence  of  Malherbe  are,  first,  that  plain, 
matter-of-fact  simplicity  of  much  of  his  best  poetry ; 
and,  secondly,  that  illative  method  of  arrangement, 
which,  masking  decorously  the  willful  pulse  of  pas- 
sion, gives  at  least  the  appearance  of  logical  neces- 
sity to  a  dilemma  of  sentiment.  The  influence  of 
Malherbe,  perhaps  because  it  affected  mainly  the 
surface  of  Cotton's  poetry,  is  not  difficult  to  trace 
in  his  work.  A  few  instances  of  it  may  be  found 
in  the  following  poems :  ' l  Elegy, "  l  "  The  New 

i  Poems,   1689,  p.   11. 


82    POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON 

Year,"  l  the  "  Joys  of  Marriage,"  2  "Epistle  to  John 
Bradshaw,  Esq."  3  and  "Ode."  4 

Maynard  (1582-1646)  was  one  of  Malherbe 's  chief 
disciples.  Malherbe  himself  said  that  Maynard 
made  excellent  verses,  but  had  unfortunately  ap- 
plied himself  to  a  genre  for  which  he  was  not 
fitted:  he  wished  to  write  epigrammes,  but  lacked 
the  power  to  succeed  because  he  had  not  enough 
pointe.  Of  the  epigrammes  of  Maynard,  Cotton 
translated  ten.  If  the  large  number  seems  to  indi- 
cate an  affinity  between  the  two  poets,  it  consisted 
in  a  desire  to  make  use  of  a  poetic  form  with 
which  Cotton  had  no  greater  success  than  Maynard. 
Maynard 's  gift  was  not  that  of  the  epigrammatist, 
nor  was  Cotton's.  Both  could  begin  an  epigramme 
with  promise,  but  neither  was  able  to  finish  it  with 
the  required  pungency.  For  wit  they  frequently 
substituted  grossness.  Neither  had  the  peculiar  in- 
tellectual quirk  of  the  epigrammatist.  Cotton's  best 
work  in  this  genre  is  illustrated  by  the  "Epigram."  5 
It  is  obviously  in  the  manner  of  Maynard  but  it  is 
rather  better  than  any  of  the  translated  epigrammes, 
being  more  spirited  in  attack;  and  having  more 
pointe.  Many  of  Cotton's  amorous  lyrics,  also,  take 
an  epigrammatic  turn;  for  instance,  the  ode  "To 
Celia"6  and  the  "Sonnet."7 

But,  as  in  the  case  of  Malherbe,  the  influence  of 
Maynard  upon  Cotton  would  seem  to  have  been  only 

1  Poems,  1689,  p.  33.  «  Ibid.,  p.  337. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  36.  e  Ibid.,  p.  143. 

3  Ibid.,  p.  120,  129.  T  Ibid.,  p.  146. 
*  Ibid.,  p.  212. 


POETEY  OF  CHAELES  COTTON    83 

superficial.  Cotton's  Muse  was  peculiarly  hospita- 
ble to  any  influence  that  came  her  way.  At  the  same 
time  that  he  was,  in  all  probability,  experimenting 
in  his  verses  with  the  cynicism  of  Maynard,  he  was 
also  imitating  the  delicate  flattery,  real  and  affected, 
of  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet.  The  influence  of  this 
latter  coterie  of  poets  has  left  marked — though  as 
in  the  case  of  Malherbe  and  Maynard,  also  super- 
ficial— traces  in  Cotton's  work. 

About  1608,  Catherine  de  Vivonne,  or  as  she  was 
called  later  Madame  de  Rambouillet,  displeased  with 
the  coarseness  of  the  life  at  the  French  court,  with- 
drew herself  from  it,  and  assembled  about  her  at  the 
Hotel  de  Rambouillet  a  famous  coterie.  For  the 
present  purpose  it  is  not  necessary  to  give  an  ex- 
tended account  of  the  group  of  men  and  women,  who, 
catching  her  spirit,  dedicated  themselves  to  the  culti- 
vation of  refined  amusement  and  polished  conversa- 
tion. During  half  a  century,  however,  they  exerted 
a  wide  influence  upon  social  ideals  and  manners, 
and  though  at  length,  the  absurdity  of  some  of  their 
aspirations, — that,  in  particular,  of  Platonic  love, — 
became  glaringly  apparent,  they  presented  for  the 
most  part  an  example  of  fair  and  decorous  social 
life. 

Naturally,  this  ancillary  court  of  Madame  de 
Rambouillet  sought  to  express  itself  in  vers  de 
societe.  Voiture  (1598-1648)  and  Benserade 
(1612-1691)  were  the  most  brilliant  of  these 
coterie  versifiers.  Their  function  consisted  in  the 
composition  of  witty,  impromptu  verses,  in  honor 
of  the  polite  life  of  the  Hotel  de  Rambouillet.  Their 


84    POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON 

opportunity  was  such  as  could  be  furnished  by  any 
salient  trifle, — a  novelty  of  personal  adornment,  for 
instance,  or  a  clever  jeu  d'  esprit.  The  object  of 
their  art  was  compliment  so  delicately  shaded  that 
at  first  glance  it  failed  to  catch  the  eye  as  compli- 
ment, and  pleased  insensibly.  Of  such  art,  pret- 
tiness,  ingenuity,  and  above  all  gayety  were  the 
essential  graces.  Both  Voiture  and  Benserade  per- 
formed their  task  successfully:  Voiture  in  partic- 
ular did  so  exquisitely  well  that  he  is  still  remem- 
bered as  the  model  for  this  kind  of  poetical  concetti. 
Cotton  translated  little  from  these  experts  in 
preciosity, — nothing,  in  fact,  but  an  epigramme  of 
Benserade,1  and  that  epigramme  happens  not  to  be 
peculiarly  characteristic  of  their  work.  That  he 
translated  nothing  at  all  from  Voiture  may  be  ac- 
counted for  by  the  fact  that  the  latter 's  work  was 
not  published  until  1695.  But  Voiture 's  work  was 
finished  by  1648,  and  it  is  probable  that  Cotton  came 
in  the  way  of  it  during  his  residence  in  France,  in 
1655.  Though  Cotton  translated  very  little  from 
these  poets,  there  is  no  lack  of  evidence  that  he 
knew  of  their  work,  and  for  a  time,  was  much  in- 
fluenced by  it.  Among  his  lyrics  there  are  a  num- 
ber obviously  in  the  manner  of  the  coterie.  These 
are  "Her  Name"2  "Her  Hair,"3  "To  Cupid,"4 
"Her  Sigh,"5  "Ccelia's  Ague,"6  and  "A  Valedic- 
tion. " 7  In  general  these  poems  have  as  their  ob- 

1  Poems,  1689,  p.  630.                        5  Ibid.,  p.  407. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  367.  «.  Ibid.,  p.  418. 
8  Ibid.,  p.  385.  7  ibid.,  p.  420. 
4  Ibid.,  p.  472. 


POETEY  OF  CHAELES  COTTON    85 

ject  the  turning  of  well-bred  compliment,  and  they 
accomplish  their  task  with  a  vivacity  and  grace 
comparable  to  that  of  their  models.  They  show,  in 
particular,  the  unmistakable  influence  of  Voiture. 
In  "Her  Sigh,"  for  one  instance,  the  light  grace 
of  the  classical  allusion  (stanza  III)  is  strongly  sug- 
gestive of  Voiture : 

"When  Thisbe's  Pyramus  was  slain 
This  sigh  had  fetched  him  back  again, 
And  such  a  sigh  from  Dido's  chest 
Wafted  the  Trojan  to  her  Breast." 

In  these  poems  of  Cotton,  also,  the  pretty  du- 
plicity of  Platonic  love  is  affected  in  a  way  which  is 
characteristic  of  Voiture.  In  "Her  Hair"  (stanza 
II)  these  lines  occur; 

"Me  thinks  I'm  now  all  sacred  fire, 
And  wholly  grown 

Devotion : 

Sensual  Love's  in  chains, 
And  all  my  boiling  veins 
Are  blown  with  sanctifi'd  desire." 

Of  the  same  sentiment  and  treatment,  the  last  four 
stanzas  of  "A  Valediction"  furnish  another  good 
example.  The  Platonic  cult  had  of  course  been  in 
vogue  for  a  long  time  in  both  France  and  England ; 
but  these  touches  in  Cotton  may  be  confidently 
ascribed  to  the  influence  of  Voiture,  because  of  their 
employment  as  means  incidental  to  the  real  object 
and  appeal  of  the  poem — that  of  delicately  veiled 
flattery. 

Furthermore,  Voiture 's  method  of  amplification 


86    POETEY  OF  CHAELES  COTTON 

by  means  of  antithesis  is  also  found  in  these  verses 
of  Cotton.  Those  ' l  To  Cupid '  ' A  furnish  perhaps  the 
best  example.  Stanza  II  may  serve  as  illustration. 

"Surrender  without  more  ado, 
I  am  both  King  and  subject  too, 
I  will  command,  but  must  obey, 
I  am  the  Hunter  and  the  Prey, 
I  vanquish,  yet  am  overcome, 
And  sentencing,  receive  my  doom." 

The  mere  fact  that  antithesis  has  been  used  is  not, 
of  course,  the  significant  thing ;  but  the  manner  of  its 
employment,  for  the  purpose  of  light,  crisp  amplifi- 
cation, suggests  at  once  the  coterie. 

To  turn  again  to  a  comparison  of  general  effects, 
an  interesting  resemblance  exists  between  Voiture's 
Stances  "  Sur  sa  Maitresse  rencontree  en  habit  de 
g argon,  sur  un  soir  de  Carnaval,"  2  and  Cotton's 
"Amoret  in  Masquerade."3  In  these  poems  the 
theme  is  identical ;  the  poet  feels  strangely  attracted 
by  a  boy  who  proves  to  be  his  mistress  in  disguise. 
The  treatment  is  the  same  in  both  poems,  being  in- 
genious and  pretty,  and  conveying  that  indefinable 
vivacity  which  is  the  perfection  of  this  sort  of  verse, 
rising  as  it  does  from  a  sincere  desire  to  please. 

Finally,  there  is  in  Cotton's  volume  another  in- 
dication of  the  influence  of  these  coterie  poets. 
Among  his  original  poems  are  found  two  rondeaux 
and  a  virelai.  The  importance  of  this  fact  becomes 
plain  when  it  is  remembered  that  these  and  other 

1  Poems,  1689,  p.  472.  8  Poems,  1689,  p.  156. 

2  (Euvres,  p.  102. 


POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON    87 

artificial  forms  had  been  for  the  most  part  discarded 
by  the  French  themselves  toward  the  end  of  the  fif- 
teenth century,  and  were  revived  only  about  1640, 
by  the  coterie.1 

Voiture  wrote  some  thirty  rondeaux  in  the  com- 
mon form;  aabba,  aab,  (refrain),  a  abb  a, 
(refrain).  Neither  of  Cotton's  rondeaux  conforms 
to  this  rime  scheme.  The  first  differs  also  from 
those  of  Voiture  in  being  anything  but  gallant.  The 
second  is  in  keeping  with  the  spirit  of  Voiture,  and 
even  in  respect  to  technique  compares  favorably  with 
his. 

The  presence  of  these  forms  among  Cotton's 
lyrics  is  significant  as  helping  to  show  how  closely 
he  was  in  touch  with  French  poetic  movements. 
No  other  of  his  contemporaries  except  Patrick 
Carey,2  who  had  lived  most  of  his  life  in  France, 
made  any  use  of  these  French  forms.  After  Cotton 
they  were  no  longer  used  for  strictly  poetic  pur- 
poses by  English  poets  until  the  comparatively 
recent  work  of  Austin  Dobson,  Edmund  Gosse,  and 
their  imitators. 

1  The  Pleiade,  in  setting  about  the  improvement  of  French  verse, 
had  rejected  thesa  forms  because  they  felt  that  the  language  needed 
the   discipline   furnished  by  the   adoption   of  classical   and   Italian 
forms.     And  later  when  Malherbe,  in  turn,  sought  to  withstand  this 
tendency  of  the  Pleiade,  he  did  not  revert,  as  might  naturally  have 
been  expected,  to  the  older  native  forms,  but  urged  merely  the  per- 
fecting of  the   language  and  forms  as  they  existed.     The  archaic 
diction  and  the  loose  structure  of  the  mediaeval  poets  was  as  dis- 
tasteful to  him  as  the  extravagance  of  the  Ronsardists.     Thus  the 
Provencal  forms,  as  well  as  the  rondeau,  and  other  Northern  forms, 
had  been  discarded  by  French  lyrical  poets  for  more  than  a  century. 

2  Patrick  Carey:   Trivial  Poems  and  Triolets,   1651. 


88    POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON 

So  far  as  it  has  been  dealt  with  as  yet,  the  influ- 
ence of  the  French  lyrists  on  Cotton  seems  to  have 
been  mainly  superficial.  Here  and  there  in  his  work 
we  find  a  poem  which,  in  part  or  as  a  whole,  sug- 
gests the  manner  of  Desportes,  of  Bertaut,  of  Mal- 
herbe,  of  Maynard,  or  of  the  coterie  poets.  Now 
and  then,  indeed,  even  a  poetic  idea  seems  to  have 
been  caught  from  one  or  other  of  them.  But  in 
such  cases  Cotton  seems  to  be  only  experimenting 
with  an  idea  that  for  the  moment  has  caught  his 
fancy.  Of  the  poets  so  far  mentioned,  Malherbe 's 
influence  seems,  all  in  all,  to  have  been  the  most  im- 
portant. It  was  not  a  vital  influence,  to  be  sure, 
but  it  was  a  pervasive  one.  It  accounts  for  much 
of  the  simplicity  and  directness  of  Cotton's  verse, 
and  for  its  free,  clear  movement.  But  two  other 
poets  are  now  to  be  mentioned  whose  influence  upon 
Cotton  was  preeminently  important,  because  of  a 
real  poetic  kinship  that  existed  between  him  and 
them.  These  two  are  Theophile  de  Viaud  and  Hon- 
orat  de  Racan. 

Theophile  de  Viaud  (1590-1626),  like  Desportes, 
Bertaut,  and  also  Racan,  was  an  eclectic.  In  read- 
ing him,  says  Julleville,  one  is  reminded  often  of 
Malherbe,  now  and  then  of  Regnier,  sometimes  of 
Ronsard  and  of  Desportes.1  He  refused  to  bend 
his  spirit  to  meet  the  requirements  of  either  school, 
and  tried,  as  he  himself  said,  to  harmonize  in  his  art 
"la  douceur  de  Malherbe  et  Pardeur  de  Ronsard." 

i  Langue  et  Litterature  Frangaise,  Par  M.  Petit  de  Julleville,  vol. 
iv,  p.  61. 


POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON    89 

He  was  at  his  best,  perhaps,  when  he  "medit  de  la 
passion  et  affecte  P  egoisme": 

"Car    (he   says)    c'est  une   fureur   de  chercher — 

qu'en  nous-meme 
Quelqu'  un  que  nous  aimons  et  quelqu'  un  qui 

nous  aime. 

Le  coaur  le  mieux  donne  tient  tou jours  a  demi. 
Chacun  s'aime  un  peu  mieux  tou  jours  que  son 


His  poetic  theory  consisted  only  in  the  practice  of 
naturalness  and  simplicity;  "Les  plus  excellents 
traits  de  la  poesie  sont  a  bien  peindre  une  naivete." 
In  respect  to  form,  he  went  even  farther  than  Mal- 
herbe  in  the  direction  of  simplicity,  or  perhaps  bet- 
ter, of  naturalness.  Toward  the  end  of  his  poetic 
life,  he  gave  up  the  use  of  conventional  classical 
mythology  altogether,  as  Malherbe  never  did,  and 
in  general  cultivated  an  artistic  independence  that 
could  not  always  be  distinguished  from  an  innate 
dislike  of  discipline.  He  bitterly  condemns  those 
poets,  who 

"Grattent  tant  le  frangois  qu'ils  le  dechirent  tout, 
Blasmant  tout  ce  qui  n'est  facile  qu'a  leur  goust; 
Sont  un  mois  a  cognoistre,  en  tastant  la  parole, 
Lors  que  Paccent  est  rude  ou  que  la  rime  est  molle, 
Veulent  persuader  que  ce  qu'ils  font  est  beau 
Et  que  leur  renommee  est  f ranche  du  tombeau, 
Sans  autre  fondement  sinon  que  tout  leur  age 
S'est  laisse  consommer  en  un  petit  ouvrage, 
Que  leurs  vers  dureront  au  monde  precieux, 
Parce  qu'en  les  faisant  ils  sont  devenus  vieux. 
.    .     .    Mon  ame,"  (he  adds)  "imaginant,  n'a  point 
la  patience 


90    POETEY  OF  CHAKLES  COTTON 

De  bien  polir  les  vers  et  ranger  la  science. 
La  regie  me  desplaist,  j  escris  conf usement : 
Jamais  un  bon  esprit  ne  fait  rien  qu  aisement. ' ' l 

These  lines  express  at  once  the  strength  and  the 
weakness  of  Theophile;  he  had  much  more  poetic 
power  than  Malherbe,  but  he  lacked  that  poet's 
genius  for  taking  infinite  pains.  Theophile  affected 
rather  the  bel  air,  le  ton  cavalier,  as  a  protest 
against  the  pedant  and  the  grammarian.2 

Cotton  translated  three  of  Theophile 's  poems, 
his  beautiful  Stances  "Quand  tu  me  vois  baiser  tes 
bras,"3  a  sonnet,  "Chere  Isis,  tes  beautez  ont 
trouble  la  nature, ' ' 4  which  Cotton  has  turned  into 
an  "ode,"  and  an  Elegie,  "Depuis  ce  triste  jour  qu' 
un  adieu  malheureux. ' ' 5 

These  translations  follow  their  originals  closely, 
and  reproduce  remarkably  well  their  spirit;  though 
they  undergo  a  distinct  change  of  manner  in  cross- 
ing the  channel.  The  translation  of  the  following 
lines  is  unusually  literal : 

"La  rose  en  rendant  son  odeur, 
Le  soleil  donnant  son  ardeur, 
Diane  et  le  char  qui  la  traine, 
Une  Nai'ade  dedans  1'ean, 
Et  les  Graces  dans  un  tableau, 
Font  plus  de  bruict  que  ton  haleine."  6 

1  CEuvres  Completes  de  Thgophile,  Par  M.  Alleaume,  Paris,   1856, 
"Elegie,  a  une  dame,"  pp.  218,  219. 

2  The"ophile,   Fragments  d'une  Histoire  Comique    (CEuvres,  vol.   ii, 
p.  n). 

»  Theophile,  CEuvres,  vol.  i,  p.  209 — Cotton's  trans.   ( Poems :  542 ). 
*  Ibid.,  vol.  ii,  p.  53 — Cotton's  trans.   (Poems:  573). 
s  Ibid.,  vol.  ii,  p.  62 — Cotton's  trans.   (Poems:  575). 
«  Theophile,  Stance*,  vol.  i,  209. 


POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON    91 

"In  breathing  her  perfume  the  Rose, 
In  shooting  forth  his  heat  the  Day, 
The  Chariot,  where  Diana  goes, 
And  Naiads,  when  in  Flpuds  they  play, 
The  silent  Graces  in  a  Picture,  too, 
Make  more  of  noise,  than  thy  soft  Breathings 
do."1 

In  the  succeeding  lines  from  the  same  poem,  the 
difference  between  the  two  poets  begins  to  appear. 
Theophile  says  simply,  in  his  third  stanza, 

"Le  sommeil,  aise  de  t 'avoir, 
Empesche  tes  yeux  de  me  voir 
Et  te  retient  dans  son  empire 
Avec  si  peu  de  liberte 
Que  ton  esprit  tout  arreste 
Ni  murmure  ny  respire." 

Cotton  substitutes  Morpheus  for  "sleep,"  and,  with 
bold  strokes  of  his  brush,  almost  altogether  over- 
lays the  delicate  limning  of  the  original,  thus : 

"Morpheus,  glad  of  the  surprise, 
In  his  black  Empire  thee  detains, 
And  hides  from  seeing  me  thine  eyes 
With  so  dull,  so  heavy  chains, 
That  thy  soft  slumber  Jd-charmed  spirits  lye 
Dumb,  without  murmurs  at  his  Tyranny." 

For  the  same  note  of  difference,  compare  the  fol- 
lowing, the  twenty-first  line  of  Theophile 's  Elegie, 

"Ainsi  que  le  soleil  est  suivy  de  la  nuict," 
with    its    corresponding    line    in    the    translation, 

i  Poems,   1689,  p.   544. 


92  POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON 
"For,  as  black  night  pursues  the  glorious  Sun," 

and  this,  the  sixty-ninth  line  of  the  original, 
* 'Tomber  d'un  precipice  et  voir  mille  serpens" 

with  Cotton's  paraphrase  of  it, 

"And  there  a  thousand  ugly  Serpents  see, 
Hissing  t'  advance  their  scaly  Crests  at  me." 

In  these  cases,  it  would  seem  that  Cotton  cared  very 
little  for  the  lightness  and  ease  of  the  French,  and 
tried  deliberately  to  give  his  translations  a  more 
robust  vigor,  or  else  that  he  made  the  translations 
before  he  came  to  appreciate  fully  the  real  power 
of  the  French. 

These  examples,  however,  taken  by  themselves  are 
in  danger  of  giving  a  wrong  impression  of  the  differ- 
ence between  Theophile  and  Cotton.  Whereas,  in 
the  case  of  Malherbe,  the  resemblance  was  a  matter 
of  form  rather  than  of  spirit,  in  this  case  it  is 
rather  one  of  spirit  than  of  form.  In  reading  these 
translations,  with  their  originals  in  mind,  one  is 
struck  time  and  again,  in  spite  of  an  obvious  differ- 
ence in  manner  and  detail,  with  the  happy  success 
of  the  reproduction  in  substance.  Substantially,  the 
impression  given  is  true.  Where  Cotton  deviates 
from  his  original,  it  is  evidently  for  the  sake  of 
what  at  the  time  seemed  to  him  an  increase  of  vigor. 
Sometimes,  in  these  cases,  there  is  a  clear  echo  of 
an  Elizabethan  gusto  and  grandiloquence  quite  alien 
to  Theophile.  For  this  reason  I  should  date  these 
translations  early;  before  Cotton  came  really  to 


POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON    93 

understand  Theophile.  That  he  did  come  to  under- 
stand him  later,  and  that  he  tried,  in  the  best  sense, 
to  imitate  him,  I  believe  the  following  citations  will 
tend  to  prove.  Compare  Theophile 's  ' '  La  Solitude  *  ' 
(OEuvres,  vol.  i,  176)  with  Cotton's  "The  Surprise " 
(Poems:  392);  the  translation  from  Theophile 
(Poems:  542)  with  Cotton's  original  poem,  "The 
Visit "  (Poems:  395).  And  as  showing  in  temper 
the  same  influence,  though  I  cannot  in  these  instances 
make  specific  comparisons  with  poems  of  The- 
ophile, take  the  following:  "Day-Break"  (Poems: 
339) ;  "Ode,  Is't  come  to  this,  that  we  must  part" 
(Poems:  212);  "To  Chloris"  (Poems:  439);  "Tak- 
ing Leave  of  Chloris"  (Poems:  440),  and  "The 
Tempest"  (Poems:  374). l  Especially  convincing 
seems  the  comparison  of  Cotton's  "Elegies"  with 
those  of  Theophile. 

Attention  should  be  called,  also,  in  noting  the 
resemblance  between  them,  to  the  moralizing  vein 
found  in  both  Theophile  and  Cotton.  See  The- 
ophile's  "Ode"  (CEuvres,  vol.  i,  190);  "Ode,  A 
Monsieur  de  Montmorency  ((Euvres,  vol.  i,  161) ;  and 
"Consolation,  A  Mademoiselle  de  L."  ((Euvres, 
vol.  i,  212) ;  in  these  the  gentle  stoicism  expressed 
is  strongly  suggestive  of  the  spirit  of  Cotton's 
poems  addressed  to  Isaac  Walton,  and  of  that  set 
of  verses  "To  John  Bradshaw,  Esq."2  Here  as 
elsewhere,  of  course,  the  same  allowance  must  be 

1  In  this   last   case,   however,   the  conception   is   rather  to  be   at- 
tributed to  Desportes,  than  to  Theophile;  but  the  manner  resembles 
Theophile. 

2  Poems,  1689,  p.  59. 


94    POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON 

made  for  subtle  differences  of  manner.  Theophile 
is  keenly  delicate  both  in  drawing  and  coloring; 
Cotton  is  comparatively  rough  and  bold.  But  the 
spirit  of  their  erotic  verses  is  essentially  the  same. 
Both  are  fervidly  sensuous,  and  yet  both  have 
a  tendency  to  abate  the  effect  of  their  impetuous 
egoism;  bits  of  conversational  detail  are  slipped 
in  to  mitigate  the  fervor  of  the  verse,  as  if  the  man 
of  the  world  tried  thus  to  moderate  an  expression 
of  feeling  too  serious  for  conventional  life.  This 
note  is  often,  in  the  poetry  of  both,  very  touching 
in  its  suggestion  of  humorous  deprecation. 

In  an  epistle,  ^  Monsieur  du  Farcis,  Theophile 
in  declaring  his  inability  to  write  love  verses  by 
vicarious  inspiration  or  in  the  abstract  as  Malherbe 
had  done,  explains  what  his  forte  is : 

"Ces  termes  esgarez"    (he  says)   "offencent  mon 

humeur, 

Et  ne  viennent  qu'au  sens  d'un  novice  rimeur 
Qui  reclame  Phebus;  quant  a  moy,  je  V  abjure 
Et  ne  recognois  rien  pour  tout  que  ma  nature." 

The  note  of  individualism,  so  often  to  be  found  in 
Cotton  in  combination  with  fervor  of  feeling  and  pic- 
turesqueness  of  expression,  seems  attributable  in 
part  at  least  to  the  encouragement  and  example  of 
Theophile. 

From  Racan,  the  lyrist  who  had  with  Theophile, — 
and  even  more  subtly  perhaps  than  the  latter, — a 
vital  influence  upon  Cotton's  work,  Cotton  trans- 
lated but  two  lyrics.  One  of  these  is  the  erotic 
ode,  "Ungrateful  cause  of  all  my  harms, "  l  and  the 

i  Poems,  1689,  p.  618. 


POETRY  OF  CHAELES  COTTON    95 

other,  a  " Bacchic  Ode,  Now  that  the  Day's  short 
and  forlorn."  *  The  first  of  these  suggests  at  once 
a  comparison  with  one  of  Cotton's  original  lyrics, 
that  "To  Chloris."  The  following  stanzas  may 
serve  to  illustrate.  The  first  is  from  Racan's  Ode, 
as  translated  by  Cotton, 

"In  Bloody  Fields  where  Mars  doth  make 
With  his  loud  thunder  all  to  shake 
Both  Earth,  and  Heaven  to  boot ; 
Man's  power  to  kill  me  I  despise, 
Since  Love,  with  Arrows  from  your  eyes, 
Had  not  the  pow'r  to  do  't."2 

The  one  that  follows  is  from  Cotton's  original  lyric, 
"To  Chloris," 

"Yet,  when  I  rush  into  these  Arms, 
Where  Death  and  Danger  do  combine, 
I  shall  less  subject  be  to  harms 
Than  to  those  killing  eyes  of  thine." 3 

The  other  translation,  the  "Bacchic  Ode,"  re- 
sembles in  general  such  bacchanalian  poems  of  Cot- 
ton as  the  "Chanson  a  Boire,"  4  "Clepsydra,"  5  and 
the  odes,  "Come,  let  us  drink  away  the  time,"  6  and 
"The  Day  is  set  did  Earth  adorn."7  These  po- 
ems, like  the  "Bacchic  Ode"  from  Racan,  are  not 
merely  drinking  songs.  They  have — and  it  is  the 

1  Poems,  1689,  p.  319. 

2  Racan's  Ode,  as  translated  by  Cotton. 

a  "To  Chloris,"  an  original  poem;  Poems,  1689,  p.  439. 
*  Poems,  1689,  p.  74. 
s  Ibid.,  p.  105. 
«  Ibid.,  p.  443. 
7  Ibid.,  p.  446. 


96    POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON 

most  striking  thing  about  them — an  undertone  of 
seriousness,  at  times  even  of  melancholy.  They  em- 
phasize the  vanity  of  taking  too  much  thought  of  the 
morrow,  and  insist  upon  the  preciousness  of  the  fleet- 
ing present.  "He  ne'er  can  recover/'  says  one  of 
Cotton's  songs,  "the  day  that  is  over";  let  him  not 
then  neglect  the  pleasure  of  good-fellowship,  the 
gracious  invitation  of 

"Plump  Autumn's  wealthy  overflow." 

It  is  tender  and  thoughtful  sentiment  rather  than 
the  love  of  good-cheer  which  characterizes  these 
convivial  songs.  Bons  vivants  both  Cotton  and 
Racan  no  doubt  were,  but  in  spite  of  their  love  of 
sensuous  pleasure  they  were  at  heart  unaffectedly 
pious  as  well  as  tender. 

In  these  respects  the  two  poets  were  most  sug- 
gestively alike,  and  in  some  added  respects  as  well. 
Both  had  an  abundance  of  force  and  poetic  gift; 
both  were  impatient  if  not  careless  workmen.  But 
alike  as  they  are  in  the  elements  of  poetic  feeling, 
in  poetic  manner  they  seem  at  times  almost  dia- 
metrically opposed.  They  suggest  certain  cases  of 
friendship,  now  and  then  encountered,  in  which  two 
persons  of  totally  different  manner  agree  in  an  essen- 
tial attitude  toward  things.  Cotton  is  for  the  most 
part  vigorous  in  phrasing, — so  vigorous  that  his 
effects  are  sometimes  almost  brusque;  his  lines 
march  boldly.  Racan,  on  the  other  hand,  is  gentle 
and  restrained,  his  pervasive  appeal  being  that  of 
the  most  delicately  toned  sentiment  and  emotion. 
Yet,  even  with  this  aspect  of  Racan  in  mind,  one 


POETRY  OF  CHAELES  COTTON    97 

may  find  verses  of  Cotton  which  rival  those  of  the 
French  lyrist  in  delicacy.  "Ccelia's  Fall,"  l  and  the 
"Epitaph  on  M.  H."2  are  poems  in  which  Cotton 
shows  a  fineness  of  feeling  and  expression  at  least 
equal  to  that  of  Racan. 

Another  point  of  likeness  between  these  two  poets 
is  their  attitude  toward  nature.  Both  were  sincere 
lovers  of  nature,  though  neither  was  attracted  by  it 
as  something  worth  while  apart  from  human  feeling. 
Human  emotion  in  the  presence  of  nature  impressed 
them  more  than  beautiful  colors  and  shapes.  In  the 
case  of  both,  however,  truth  of  sentiment,  simply  and 
naturally  expressed,  gives  to  their  slightest  touches 
of  description  a  delightful  freshness  and  charm.  An 
illustration  of  this  attitude  may  be  found  in  the  fol- 
lowing (the  last  three)  stanzas  of  Racan 's  "The 
Country  Life": 

"Crois-moi,  retirous-nous  hors  de  la  multitude, 
Et  vivons  desormais  loin  de  la  servitude 
De  ces  palais  dores  ou  tout  le  monde  accourt. 
Sous  un  chene  eleve  les  arbrisseaux  s'emmient; 
Et  devant  le  soleil  tous  les  astres  s'enfuient, 
De  peur  d'etre  obliges  de  lui  faire  la  cour. 

Apres  qu'on  a  suivi  sans  aucune  assurance 
Cette  vaine  faveur  qui  nous  pait  d'  esperance, 
L'envie,  en  un  moment,  tous  nos  dessein  detruit; 
Ce  n'est  qu'une  fumee;  il  n'est  rien  de  si  frele. 
La  plus  belle  moisson  est  sujette  a  la  grele, 
Et  souvent  elle  n'a  que  des  fleurs  pour  du  fruit. 
Agreables  deserts,  sejour  de  Pinnocence, 
Ou,  loin  des  vanites,  de  la  magnificence, 

i  Poems,  1689,  p.  519.  2  Ibid.,  p.  354. 


98    POETEY  OF  CHAELES  COTTON 

Commence  mon  repos  et  finit  mon  tourment, 
Vallons,  fleuves,  rochers,  plaisante  solitude, 
Si  vous  futes  temoins  de  mon  inquietude, 
Soyez-le  desormais  de  mon  contentement. ' ' 

With  these  stanzas  from  Eacan  may  be  compared, 
in  particular,  the  eighth  and  tenth  divisions  of  Cot- 
ton's ode,  The  Eetirement: 

VHI. 

"Oh,  my  beloved  Eocks!  that  rise 
To  awe  the  Earth,  and  brave  the  Skies ; 
From  some  aspiring  Mountain's  crown 

How  dearly  do  I  love, 
Giddy  with  pleasure,  to  look  down, 
And  from  the  Vales  to  view  the  noble  heights  above ! 

X. 

"Lord!  would  men  let  me  alone, 
What  an  over-happy  one 
Should  I  think  myself  to  be, 
Might  I  in  this  desert  place, 
Which  most  men  by  their  voice  disgrace, 
Live  but  undisturbed  and  free ! 

Here  in  this  despis'd  recess 
Would  I  manage  Winter's  cold 
And  the  Summer's  worst  excess, 
Try  to  live  out  to  sixty  full  years  old, 

And  all  the  while 
Without  an  envious  eye, 
On  any  thriving  under  Fortune's  smile, 
Contented  live,  and  then  contented  die." 

Here,  it  is  to  be  remarked,  Cotton  is  the  more 
vigorous;  Eacan  the  more  gentle  and  restrained. 
But  after  all,  this  difference  between  the  two  in  point 


POETRY  OF  CHARLES  COTTON    99 

of  execution  may  be  largely  a  difference  of  national 
idiom.  Cotton  is  the  English,  so  to  speak,  of  Racan, 
and  Racan  is  the  French  of  Cotton. 

It  can  scarcely  be  doubted,  in  recapitulating  the 
influence  of  the  French  lyrists  upon  Cotton,  that  the 
general  clearness  and  simplicity  of  his  poetry  are 
due  in  a  considerable  measure  to  their  combined 
influence.  But  in  these  respects  Malherbe's  influ- 
ence was,  perhaps,  the  predominating  one,  an  influ- 
ence which  was,  however,  pervasive  rather  than  deep. 
Other  superficial  tendencies  in  Cotton  may  be  traced, 
in  part  at  least,  to  these  French  lyrists:  his  fond- 
ness for  military  imagery  to  Desportes,  for  mytho- 
logical allusion  to  Malherbe,  for  pointe  to  Maynard, 
and  for  amplification  by  antithesis  to  Voiture.  But 
it  was  in  Theophile  de  Viaud  and  in  Racan  that  he 
found  vital  encouragement.  Between  him  and  these 
two  there  is  real  kinship.  Like  him,  they  are  poets 
of  compromise,  assimilating  and  adapting  every- 
thing suitable  to  their  purpose.  Like  him,  though 
careless  workmen,  they  are  in  feeling  and  concep- 
tion genuinely  poetic.  Theophile 's  fervor  and  pic- 
turesqueness,  and  Racan 's  tender  sensibility  must, 
to  judge  by  what  seems  most  distinctive  in  Cotton 's 
own  work,  have  appealed  to  him  strongly.  The 
poetic  point  of  view  in  all  three  is  the  same.  It  is 
that  of  simple-hearted,  almost  naive  egoism, — an 
egoism  that,  having  no  misgivings,  expresses  itself 
frankly,  and  yet  is  tempered  by  a  sincere  desire  to 
be  found  worthy  of  what  is  so  egoistically  sought. 
It  has  an  insistence  at  once  so  natural  and  tender 
— at  times  so  wistful — that  one  easily  condones 


100   POETRY  OF  CHAELES  COTTON 

its  selfishness.  It  is  an  attitude  toward  love  very 
different  from  the  cynical  attitude  of  most  of  Cot- 
ton's contemporaries  at  home,  and,  whether  he  de- 
rived it  from  these  French  lyrists  or  not,  he  held  it 
in  common  with  them. 


THE  POETRY  OF  NATUEE  AND  OF 
MEDITATION 

In  spite  of  what  Cotton  has  said  about  the  "cold 
and  blustering  climate  of  the  Peak"  his  beloved 
Beresford  Dale  was  a  bit  of  Arcadia.  Its  color  and 
warmth,  and  its  atmosphere  of  soft  holiday-calm 
must  have  served  as  the  setting  for  the  "Invitation 
to  Phillis,"  the  theme  of  which  is  that  of  Marlowe's 
exquisite  lyric, 

"Come  with  me  and  be  my  love 
And  thou  shalt  all  the  pleasure  prove. " 

He  set  himself  too  great  a  task  in  attempting — 
if  he  did  attempt — to  rival  Marlowe.  But  his  ampli- 
fication has  a  beauty  of  its  own;  the  variations, 
though  superabundant,  have  remarkable  fluency  and 
grace : 

"Thy  Summer 's  bower  shall  over-look 
The  subtil  windings  of  the  brook, 

From  this  thy  sphear  thou  shalt  behold 
Thy  showy  Ewes  troop  o'er  the  mold 

Who  yearly  pay  my  Love  a-piece 
A  tender  Lamb,  and  silver  Fleece. 

And  when  Sol's  Rayes  shall  all  combine 
Thine  to  out-burn,  though  not  outshine, 

Then,  at  the  foot  of  some  green  Hill, 
101 


102         •  MATURE  AND  MEDITATION 

Where  crystal  Dove  runs  murm'ring  still, 
Will  angle  for  the  bright-ey 'd  Fish 

To  make  my  Love  a  dainty  dish ; 
Or,  in  a  cave  by  Nature  made, 

Fly  to  the  covert  of  the  Shade, " 

The  companion  piece  to  this,  the  "Entertainment 
to  Phillis,"  is  written  in  the  same  vein,  expressing 
the  same  naive  and  indiscriminate  satisfaction  in 
beauty  whether  of  art  or  of  nature.  The  note  which 
has  been  struck  with  most  perfect  success  by  Mar- 
lowe in  the  well-known  couplet, 

"A  belt  of  straw  and  ivy-buds, 
With  coral  clasps  and  amber  studs, " 

Cotton  here  elaborates  with  the  zest  of  youth: 

"Within  my  Love  will  find  each  room 
New  furnished  from  the  Silk- worm's  loom; 
Vessels  of  the  true  antick  mold, 
Cups  cut  in  Amber,  Myrrh,  and  gold; 
Quilts  blown  with  roses,  Beds  with  down 
More  white  than  Atlas'  aged  Crown; 
Carpets  where  Flowers  waxen  grow, 
Only  thy  sweeter  steps  to  strew, 
Such  as  may  emulation  bring 
To  the  wrought  mantle  of  the  Spring. 
There  silver  lamps  shall  silent  shine, 
Supply 'd  by  Oyls  of  Jessamine, 
And  mists  of  odours  shall  arise 
To  air  thy  little  Paradise. 
I  have  such  Fruits,  too,  for  thy  taste, 
As  teeming  Autumn  never  grac't; 
Apples  as  round  as  thine  own  eyes; 
Or,  as  thy  Sister  Beauties  prize, 


NATURE  AND  MEDITATION  103 

Smooth  as  thy  snowy  skin,  and  sleek 
And  ruddy  as  the  Morning's  cheek; 
Grapes,  that  the  Tyrian  purple  wear, 
The  spritely  matrons  of  the  year, 
Such  as  Lyaeus  never  bare 
About  his  drowsy  brows,  so  fair, 
So  plump,  so  large,  so  ripe,  so  good, 
So  full  of  flavor  and  of  blood. 
There's  water  in  a  Grot  hard  by, 
To  quench  thee,  when  with  dalliance  dry, 
Sweet  as  the  milk  of  Sand-red  Cow, 
Brighter  than  Cynthia's  silver  Bow, 
Cold  as  the  Goddess'  self  e'er  was, 
And  clearer  than  thy  looking-glass." 

These  poems  obviously  suggest  the  spirit  of  such 
lyrists  as  Barnfield  and  Breton,  and  in  a  less  degree 
that  of  Herrick ;  they  foreshadow  the  abundant  fancy 
and  the  unabashed  hedonism  of  Keats.  The  poign- 
ancy of  Keats  is  lacking,  but  in  these  poems  of  Cot- 
ton there  is  almost  if  not  quite  equal  sympathy  with 
sensuous  joy. 

But  this  idyllic  charm  was  not  the  only  debt  that 
Cotton  owed  the  Elizabethan  lyrists.  The  bracing 
naturalism  of  Shakespeare's  " Winter"  appealed  to 
him  with  perhaps  even  greater  power.  The  "  Sum- 
mer-Day Quatrains"  present  a  series  of  genre 
sketches  that  in  vividness  are  almost  unsurpassed. 
Let  the  following  stanzas  serve  for  example  and  com- 
parison; the  first  from  Shakespeare's  lyric, 

"When  icicles  hang  by  the  wall 
And  Dick  the  Shepherd  blows  his  nail 
And  Tom  bears  logs  into  the  hall 
And  milk  comes  frozen  home  in  pail," 


104          NATURE  AND  MEDITATION 

and  these  two  from  Cotton's  " Evening  Quatrains, " 

"The  Cock  now  to  the  roost  is  prest, 
For  he  must  call  up  all  the  rest ; 
The  sow's  fast  pegg'd  within  the  Sty 
To  still  her  squeaking  progeny. 

Each  one  has  had  his  supping  mess, 
The  cheese  is  put  into  the  Press, 
The  Cans  and  Bowls  clean  scalded  all 
Rear'd  up  against  the  Milk-house  Wall." 

Again,  in  this  stanza  from  the  "Night  Quatrains," 
there  is  the  same  direct  and  graphic  realism: 

"The  Fire's  new  rak't  and  Hearth  swept  clean 
By  Madge  the  dirty  Kichin-quean, 
The  Safe  is  lock't,  the  Mouse-trap  set, 
The  Leaven  laid,  and  Bucking  wet." 

It  is  interesting  to  note,  whether  the  fact  is  sig- 
nificant or  not,  that  a  Scotch  poet,  Alexander  Hume 
(1560-1609),  almost  a  hundred  years  before,  had 
taken  the  same  theme  as  that  of  Cotton's  "Summer- 
day  Quatrains"  and  treated  it  in  the  same  manner. 
In  "The  Day  Estivall"  *  Hume  wrote: 

"The  burning  beams  down  from  his  face 

Sae  fervently  can  beat, 
That  man  and  beast  now  seek  a  place 
To  save  them  frae  the  heat. 

The  breathless  flocks  draw  to  the  shade 
And  f reshure  of  their  fold ; 

i  Veitch,  Feeling  for  Nature  in  Scottish  Poetry,  vol.  i,  p.  332. 


NATURE  AND  MEDITATION  105 

The  startling  nolt  as  they  were  mad, 
Run  to  the  rivers  cold. 

The  laborers  that  timely  raise, 

All  weary,  faint,  and  weak 
For  heat,  down  to  their  houses  gaes, 

Noon-meat  and  sleep  to  take. 

The  caller  wine  in  cave  is  sought, 
Men's  brotheing  beasts  to  cool; 

The  water  cold  and  clear  is  brought, 
And  sallad  steeped  in  ule." 

And  Cotton  follows,  in  the  "Noon  Quatrains": 

"The  Day  grows  hot,  and  darts  his  rays 
From  such  a  sure  and  killing  place, 
That  this  half -world  are  fain  to  fly 
The  danger  of  his  burning  eye. 

His  early  glories  were  benign, 
Warm  to  be  felt,  bright  to  be  seen, 
And  all  was  comfort,  but  who  can 
Endure  him  when  meridian? 

The  grazing  herds  now  droop  and  pant, 
E'en  without  labour  fit  to  faint, 
And  willingly  forsook  their  meat 
To  seek  out  cover  from  the  heat. 

The  lagging  ox  is  now  unbound, 
From  larding  the  new  turn  'd  up  ground, 
Whilst  Hobbinol,  alike  overlaid, 
Takes  his  coarse  dinner  to  the  shade. 

Cellars  and  grottoes  now  are  best 
To  eat  and  drink  in,  or  to  rest, 
And  not  a  soul  above  is  found 
Can  find  a  refuge  underground. " 


106  NATURE  AND  MEDITATION 

Both  poets  do  justice,  with  vivid  realism  in  detail, 
to  the  successive  phases  of  a  summer  day — the  fresh- 
ness of  sunrise,  the  withering  heat  of  noon,  the 
pause  of  evening,  and  the  suspension  of  night,  as 
symbolized  by  the  sky,  the  earth,  and  the  occupa- 
tions of  town  and  country.  Whether  the  English 
poet  was  directly  indebted  to  his  Scotch  predeces- 
sor is,  of  course,  impossible  to  say. 

These  genre  pictures  of  Cotton  are  often  framed, 
so  to  speak,  in  the  gilt  of  mythology.  To  cite  one 
of  the  best  of  them : 

"Hark!  Hark!  the  watchful  Chanticleer 
Tells  us  the  day's  bright  harbinger 
Peeps  o'er  the  eastern  hills,  to  awe 
And  warn  Night's  sovereign  to  withdraw. 

The  Morning  Curtains  now  are  drawn, 
And  now  appears  the  blushing  dawn; 
Aurora  has  her  roses  shed, 
To  strew  the  way  Sol's  steeds  must  tread. 

Xanthus  and  .^Ethon  harness  'd  are, 
To  roll  away  the  burning  Car, 
And,  snorting  flame,  impatient  bear 
The  dressing  of  the  charioteer. " 

The  effect  of  the  combination  of  mythological 
splendor  with  intense  realism  is  comparable  to 
that  produced  by  certain  contemporary  Dutch 
painters,  the  so-called  "  stuff-painters "  who  be- 
stowed much  care  on  the  luster  of  their  silks  and 
satins,  as  if  thereby  to  invest  scenes  of  peaceful 
domestic  life  with  pictorial  splendor.  But  to  this 
effect  Cotton,  in  concluding  each  set  of  quatrains, 


NATURE  AND  MEDITATION  107 

adds  a  touch  of  contemplative  reflection,  and  in  the 
blending  of  all  of  these  elements — mythology,  real- 
ism and  meditation — recalls  to  mind  Carlyle's 
"Glorious  summer  twilights  when  the  Sun  like  a 
proud  Conqueror  and  Imperial  Taskmaster  turned 
his  back,  with  his  gold-purple  emblazoning,  and  all 
his  fire  body-guard  (of  Prismatic  colours) ;  the  tired 
brick-makers  of  this  clay  earth  each  might  steal  a 
little  frolic,  and  those  meek  stars  would  not  tell  of 
them." 

The  "Ode  to  Winter,"  to  judge  by  its  title,  might 
be  expected  to  be  a  companion-poem  to  the  "Sum- 
mer-day Quatrains."  But  the  inspiration  of  the 
two  poems  is  from  quite  different  sources.  In  the 
"Ode  to  Winter,"  we  have,  instead  of  a  series  of 
sketches,  charming  in  themselves,  a  poem  much  more 
direct,  and  keen  of  purpose.  Winter  is  represented 
as  a  proud  conqueror,  a  mortal  enemy,  who  with  his 
perfectly  appointed  host  sweeps  over  the  sea,  at- 
tended by  storm  and  wreck, 

"To  ravish  from  our  fruitful  fields 
All  that  the  teeming  season  yields," 

and  who,  at  last,  binds  the  earth  in  shining  chains 
of  ice.  When  his  force  is  seen  to  be  irresistible, 
the  poet  retreats  into  a  fortress, 

"Where  all  the  Eoarers  of  the  North 
Can  neither  Storm  nor  Starve  us  forth. ' ' 

Safely  shut  in,  he  defiantly  bids, 

".     .     .    Old  Winter  take  his  course, 
And  roar  abroad  till  he  be  hoarse, 


108          NATURE  AND  MEDITATION 

And  his  Lungs  crack  with  Ruthless  Ire, 
It  shall  but  serve  to  blow  our  Fire." 

The  poem  ends  with  a  stanza  which  gives  rise  to 
an  interesting  question.  If  the  composition  is  con- 
sidered as  one  merely  of  fancy  and  sentiment  this 
stanza  seems  an  unhappy  excrescence.  It  reads  as 
follows : 

"Or  let  him  [Winter]  Scotland  take  and  there 
Confine  the  plotting  Presbyter, 
Has  Zeal  may  frieze,  whilst  we  kept  warm 
With  love  and  wine,  can  take  no  harm." 

This  stanza  suggests  that  its  explanation  as  well  as 
that  of  the  entire  poem  may  possibly  be  found  in  the 
state  of  public  affairs  about  the  time  it  was  written. 
The  poem,  indeed,  bears  with  remarkable  detail 
interpretation  as  a  political  satire.  It  will  be  re- 
called that  it  was  only  about  mid- winter,  1655-6,  that 
the  people  of  England  and  Wales  became  aware  that 
they  were,  and  had  been  for  some  time,  under  a  new 
system  of  home-government,  called  Government  by 
Major  Generals.  The  Commonwealth,  under  stress 
of  circumstances,  had  been  forced  step  by  step  to- 
ward a  military  despotism.  The  country  was  now 
divided  into  twelve  military  districts,  each  under  a 
major-general,  with  a  force  supported  by  a  tax  of  ten 
per  cent,  on  royalist  estates.  Masson,  in  his  Life  of 
Milton,  says:  "What  with  the  vigilance  of  the  ma- 
jor-generals in  their  districts,  what  with  edicts  of 
the  Protector  and  the  Council  for  the  direction  of 
the  major-generals,  the  public  order  now  kept  over 
all  England  and  Wales  was  wonderfully  strict.  At 


NATURE  AND  MEDITATION  109 

no  time  since  the  beginning  of  the  Commonwealth 
had  there  been  so  much  of  that  general  decorum  of 
external  behavior  which  Cromwell  liked  to  see. 
Cock-fights,  dancing  at  fairs,  and  other  such  amuse- 
ments, were  under  ban. ' ' l  Then,  the  Protector  be- 
gan concerning  himself  with  "the  plotting  Presby- 
ter. "  Eoyalists,  such  as  Cotton,  were  now  coming 
to  feel  that  their  cause  had  only  to  withstand  a 
siege  until  the  real  spirit  of  the  nation  should  reas- 
sert itself.  The  royalist  poet,  therefore,  might  well 
sing  as  follows,  in  a  spirit  far  from  that  of  stoical 
resignation, — 

1 1  Then  let  the  chill  Sirocco  blow, 
And  gird  us  round  with  hills  of  snow ; 
Or  else  go  whistle  to  the  shore, 
And  make  the  hollow  mountains  roar, 

Whilst  we  together  jovial  sit 
Careless,  and  crown 'd  with  mirth  and  wit; 
Where,  though  bleak  winds  confine  us  home, 
Our  fancies  round  the  world  shall  roam. 

We  '11  drink  the  wanting  into  wealth, 
And  those  that  languish  into  health, 
The  afflicted  into  joy,  th'  opprest 
Into  security  and  rest. 

The  worthy  in  disgrace  shall  find 
Favor  return  again  more  kind, 
And  in  restraint  who  stifled  lie 
Shall  taste  the  air  of  liberty/' 

The  poem  when  considered  as  symbolical  of  the 
political  condition  becomes  at  once,  as  a  whole,  more 

i  Masson,  Life  of  Milton,  vol.  v,  p.  51. 


110  NATURE  AND  MEDITATION 

significant,  and  more  artistic.  Wordsworth,  it  will 
be  recalled,  found  this  ode  merely  a  highly  success- 
ful employment  of  fancy  in  the  treatment  of  nature 
and  of  sentiment.  But  evidently,  from  what  he  said 
of  it,  the  value  of  the  composition  as  a  whole  did  not 
appeal  to  him  strongly.  He  probably  had  difficulty, 
as  Mr.  A.  H.  Bullen  did  also,  with  the  concluding 
stanza  cited  above. 

Moreover,  difficulty  has  been  felt  with  the  word 
"Vanished"  in  the  following  couplet  from  stanza 
xxv.  The  edition  of  1689  reads, 

"Vanished  the  Count rys  of  the  Sun 
The  fugitive  is  hither  run." 

The  poet  is  here  speaking  of  the  approach  of  winter 
from  over  seas.  The  word  may,  it  is  true,  be  only 
a  misprint  for  "banished,"  but,  assuming  that  it 
is  not,  may  the  poet  not  mean  to  suggest  involuntary 
retreat  by  force  of  natural  law?  If  so,  he  may  be 
supposed  to  wish  to  suggest  to  the  reader  that  the 
protectorate  would  ultimately  vanish  before  the  re- 
turning sun  of  royalty.  To  conceive  of  winter  as 
coming  from  the  south  is  at  best  awkward,  unless  one 
supposes  a  symbolical  intention  in  the  poem.  It 
may  be  recalled  that  during  1655-6  there  was  much 
successful  military  and  naval  activity  in  the  "Coun- 
tries of  the  Sun."  In  April,  1655,  Blake  chastised 
the  deys  of  Algiers,  Tunis  and  Tripoli ;  and  in  May, 
Penn  and  Venables  were  sent  to  make  reprisals  in 
the  Spanish  West  Indies.  Thus,  the  disturbing  con- 
ception of  winter  as  approaching  from  the  south, 
and  moving  toward  Scotland,  seems  explained  by  the 


NATURE  AND  MEDITATION  111 

political  situation — the  succession  of  events  being, 
first,  the  successful  operations  abroad  in  the  south 
during  the  summer  months  of  1655,  secondly,  the 
realization  by  the  English  in  mid-winter  of  the 
trend  of  affairs  at  home,  and  finally  the  preparations 
that  were  making  in  regard  to  the  spiritual  needs 
of  Scotland.  However,  the  use  of  "fugitive"  in  the 
second  line  of  the  above  quotation  may  give  some 
additional  difficulty.  But  perhaps  it  means,  in  ac- 
cord with  the  above  suggestion,  that  the  conqueror 
is  already  a  fugitive  from  the  countries  of  the  sun, 
and  will  be  a  fugitive  from  England,  too,  when,  in 
season,  the  sun  of  royalty  returns. 

On  purely  poetical  grounds,  however,  this  fine 
"Ode  to  Winter"  may  claim  appreciation.  As 
Wordsworth  has  said,  the  rapidity  of  detail  and  the 
profusion  of  fanciful  comparisons  "indicate  on  the 
part  of  the  poet  extreme  activity  of  intellect  and 
a  corresponding  hurry  of  delightful  feeling."  The 
following  stanzas  will  illustrate  the  truth  of  this 
judgment  and  show  how  vividly  the  scenes  of  the 
poem  have  been  realized.  Winter  approaches  over 
the  sea: 

IX. 

"See,  where  a  Liquid  Mountain  rides, 
Made  up  of  innumerable  Tides, 
And  tumbles  headlong  to  the  strand, 
As  if  the  Sea  would  come  to  Land. 

X. 

A  Sail,  a  Sail  I  plainly  spy, 
Between  the  Ocean  and  the  Sky, 


112  NATURE  AND  MEDITATION 

An  Argosy,  a  tall-built  ship, 
With  all  her  Pregnant  Sails  a-trip. 

XI. 

Nearer  and  nearer  she  makes  way, 
With  Canvas  Wings  into  the  Bay; 
And  now  upon  the  Deck  appears 
A  crowd  of  busy  mariners. 

XV. 

Nearer  she  comes,  and  still  doth  sweep 
The  Azure  Surface  of  the  deep, 
And  now  at  last  the  Waves  have  thrown 
Their  Eider  on  our  ALBION. 

XVI. 

Under  the  Black  cliffs7  spumy  base 
The  sea-sick  hulk  her  freight  displays, 
And  as  she  walloweth  on  the  Sand, 
Vomits  her  burthen  to  the  Land. 

XVIII. 

With  Heads  erect,  and  plying  oar, 
The  ship-wreck 'd  mates  make  to  the  Shoar; 
And  dreadless  of  their  danger,  climb 
The  floating  Mountains  of  the  brine. ' ' 

How  graphic  that  last  stanza  is!  One  would 
hardly  expect  from  an  inlander  such  specific  treat- 
ment of  the  sea  in  storm.  Cotton  has,  however,  an- 
other picture  of  storm  at  sea  worthy  of  a  place  be- 
side this  one ;  it  is  entitled  '  '  The  Storm. "  l  The  fol- 
lowing lines  describe  the  tempest  at  its  height: 

i  Poems,   1689,  p.    199. 


NATURE  AND  MEDITATION  113 

"Wave  rode  on  wave,  and  every  wave  a  sea. 

Of  our  small  bark,  gusts  rush'd  the  trembling  sides — 

Against  vast  billows  that  contained  whole  tides, 

Which  in  disdainful  fury  beat  her  back 

With  such  a  force  as  made  her  stout  sides  crack, — 

'Gainst  others  that  in  crowds  came  rolling  in, 

As  if  they  meant  their  liquid  walls  between 

T '  engage  the  wretched  hulk  and  crush  her  flat, 

And  make  her  squeeze  to  death  her  dying  freight. 

Sometimes  she  on  a  mountain's  ridge  would  ride, 

And  from  that  height  her  gliding  keel  then  glide 

Into  a  Gulf  yawning,  and  deep  as  Hell, 

Whilst  we  were  swooning  all  the  while  we  fell. ' ' l 

Cotton  must  have  been  one  of  the  first  among 
English  poets  to  find  poetic  satisfaction  in  these 
titanic  disturbances  of  nature.  The  appeal  of  the 
sublime,  however,  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  been 
what  affected  him.  He  does  not  identify  himself  in 
spirit  with  an  overwhelming  force  in  nature  and 
achieve  victory  over  it  by  virtue  of  obedient  ac- 
ceptance. Shelley  frequently  shows  such  transcend- 
ant  humility  and  strength  of  soul.  But  for  Cotton, 
mankind  belongs  to  one  order;  nature  to  another, 
and  a  distinct,  order  of  being.  He  represents  a  war 
of  elements ;  man  is  an  onlooker,  and  may  be  a  pas- 
sive sufferer.  There  are,  indeed,  in  his  descriptions 
occasional  touches  of  what  has  been  called  the  "pa- 
thetic fallacy";  but  they  are  incidental  to  the  main 
effect  and  without  serious  poetical  intention.  Cot- 
ton is  too  naive  a  realist  to  identify  the  spirit  of 
man  with  the  physical  forces  of  nature.  He  merely 
describes  what  his  eyes  see,  suggests  the  attendant 

i  Of.  Donne,  The  Storm,  Muses'  Library,  vol.  ii,  p.  1. 


114  NATURE  AND  MEDITATION 

emotions  of  the  observer,  and  adds  the  meditative 
accompaniment  which  a  lively  fancy  supplies  him. 
But  it  is  noteworthy,  none  the  less,  that  he  is  among 
the  first  of  English  poets  to  triumph  over  the  ter- 
ror of  storm  at  sea,  and  over  the  benumbing  cold  of 
winter  by  simple  strength  of  heart  and  unsubdua- 
ble  liveliness  of  fancy.  It  was  this  manly  virtue, 
no  doubt,  which  caused  Charles  Lamb  to  call  him 
the  "hearty,  cheerful  Mr.  Cotton. " 

From  this  aspect  of  the  poet — characterized,  also, 
by  Lamb,  as  his  "rough  magnanimity, "  we  pass  to 
consideration  of  his  meditative  poetry.  It  perhaps 
derives  in  part  from  the  "bold  and  insolent  vein" 
of  such  Elizabethan  meditative  poems  as  a  "Fare- 
well to  the  Vanities  of  the  World "  which  has  been 
variously  attributed  to  Dr.  Donne,  Sir  Henry  Wot- 
ton,  and  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh : 

"I  would  be  great,  but  that  the  sun  doth  still 

Level  his  rays  against  the  rising  hill; 

I  would  be  high,  but  see  the  proudest  oak 

Most  subject  to  the  rending  thunder- stroke ; 

I  would  be  rich,  but  see  men,  too  unkind, 

Dig  in  the  bowels  of  the  richest  mind ; 

I  would  be  wise,  but  that  I  often  see 

The  fox  suspected  whilst  the  ass  goes  free; 

I  would  be  fair,  but  see  the  fair  and  proud, 

Like  the  bright  sun,  oft  setting  in  a  cloud ; 

I  would  be  poor,  but  know  the  humble  grass 

Still  trampled  on  by  each  unworthy  ass : 

Rich,  hated;  wise,  suspected;  scorned,  if  poor, 

Great,  feared ;  fair,  tempted ;  high,  still  envied  more ; 

I  have  wished  all,  but  now  I  wish  for  neither ; 

Great,  high,  rich,  wise,  nor  fair,  poor  I'll  be  rather. " 


NATURE  AND  MEDITATION          115 

With  these  lines  may  be  compared  the  following 
stanzas  of  Cotton's  * ' Contentation. "  The  two 
passages  are  rather  closely  parallel,  both  in  topic 
and  in  point-of-view,  though  they  express  an  ob- 
vious difference  of  temper : 

' 1 Is  it  true  happiness  to  be 

By  undiscerning  Fortune  plac't, 
In  the  most  eminent  degree 
Where  few  arrive,  and  none  stand  fast? 

Titles  and  wealth  are  Fortune's  Tayle, 
Wherewith  the  Vain  themselves  ensnare ! 

The  great  are  proud  of  borrowed  spoils 
The  Miser's  plenty  breeds  his  care. 

The  one  supinely  yawns  at  rest, 
Th'  other  eternally  doth  toyle, 

Each  of  them  equally  a  beast, 

A  pampered  Horse,  or  lab 'ring  Moyl. 

Excess  of  ill-got,  ill-kept  pelf 

Doth  only  Death  and  Danger  breed, 

Whilst  one  rich  Worlding  starves  himself 
With  what  would  thousands  others  feed. 

Nor  is  he  happier  than  these 

Who  in  a  moderate  estate, 
Where  he  might  safely  live  at  ease, 

Has  lusts  that  are  immoderate. 

For  he,  by  these  desires  misled, 
Quits  his  own  vine's  securing  shade 

T'  expose  his  naked,  empty  head 
To  all  the  Storms  Man's  peace  invade." 

The  parallel  might  be  followed  out  at  greater 
length.  It  is  not  the  likeness,  however,  but  the  dif- 


116          NATURE  AND  MEDITATION 

f  erence  between  the  two  poems,  considered  as  wholes, 
which  is  important  for  the  present  purpose.  The 
final  mood  of  the  "  Farewell "  is  expressed  as  fol- 
lows: 

"Then  here  I'll  sit  and  sigh  my  hot  love's  folly, 
And  learn  to  affect  an  holy  melancholy; 
And  if  contentment  be  a  stranger  then, 
I'll  ne'er  look  for  it  but  in  heaven,  again." 

But  Cotton  could  not  "affect  an  holy  melan- 
choly"; the  world's  disease  was  as  plainly  evident 
to  him  as  to  the  other,  but  he  saw  clearly,  also,  that, 

1 '  There  are  no  ills  but  what  we  make, 

By  giving  Shapes  and  names  to  things ; 
Which  is  the  dangerous  mistake 
That  causes  all  our  Sufferings. 

We  call  that  sickness,  which  is  health ; 

That  persecution,  which  is  Grace ; 
That  poverty,  which  is  true  Wealth, 

And  that  Dishonour,  which  is  praise. 

Providence  watches  over  all, 
And  that  with  an  impartial  eye, 

And  if  to  misery  we  fall 

'Tis  through  our  own  infirmity." 

"Unaffectedly  pious"  is  one  of  the  phrases  which 
Mr.  A.  H.  Bullen  has  applied  to  Cotton,  and  per- 
haps a  truer  one  could  not  be  found  for  this  aspect 
of  his  personality.  Clear  recognition  of  the  hard 
facts  of  life,  and  cheerful  determination  to  withstand 
them,  combine  in  these  poems  of  meditation  to  pro- 
duce that  "gravely  noble  mood"  which,  as  Lowell 


NATURE  AND  MEDITATION  117 

says,  ' '  shows  a  knowledge  of  what  goodness  is  that 
no  bad  man  could  have  acquired. "  It  is  not  a  little 
significant  to  find  this  cavalier  poet  and  his  great 
Puritan  contemporary  in  substantial  agreement  upon 
an  important  point.  Cotton  declares  that  man 
happy, 

"Who  from  the  busie  World  retires 

To  be  more  useful  to  it  still 

And  to  no  greater  good  aspires, 

But  only  the  eschewing  ill," 

and  Milton  with  a  distinction  of  phrase  that  is  only 
his,  but  with  no  greater  sincerity,  expresses  the  same 
thing: 

.     .     .     "God  doth  not  need 
Either  man's  work  or  his  own  gifts;  who  best 
Bear  his  mild  yoke,  they  serve  him  best;  his  state 
Is  kingly.     Thousands  at  his  bidding  speed, 
And  post  o'er  land  and  ocean  without  rest; 
They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait. ' ' 

In  most  of  Cotton's  poetry,  the  two  phases  of  his 
work  just  discussed — namely,  his  realistic  descrip- 
tion of  nature  and  his  meditation  on  the  meaning 
of  life — are  kept  apart,  or  if  found  in  combination 
they  appear  successively.  The  effect  of  the  latter 
method  is  that  of  somewhat  disparate  moods  linked 
together  by  rather  a  loose  bond  of  contiguity.  A 
fundamental  law  of  association  does  bind  them  to- 
gether, but  as  a  matter  of  artistic  execution  the  com- 
position leaves  something  to  be  desired.  This  criti- 
cism is  true  of  both  the  "Ode  to  Winter"  and  the 
"Summer-day  Quatrains."  But  there  is  one  poem 


118  NATURE  AND  MEDITATION 

of  which  it  cannot  be  said.  This  is  "The  Retire- 
ment, "  the  poem  with  which  Walton  chose  to  adorn 
his  book.  In  it  Cotton  has  made  harmonious  the 
varied  emotions  arising  from  his  contemplation  of 
nature  and  of  life.  Here  he  seems  to  be  giving  ex- 
pression to  the  full  compass  of  his  feeling:  to  the 
pleasure  he  took  in  cleanly  household  offices,  in  the 
freshness  of  green  fields,  and  in  the  happiness  of 
days  passed  by  the  side  of  his  "beloved  Nymph! 
Fair  Dove,  Princess  of  Kivers  ' ' ;  but  fused  with  these 
sensuous  pleasures  is  the  deeper  satisfaction  he 
sometimes  found  in  meditation,  when,  at  moments, 
he  rose  to  almost  Wordsworthian  clairvoyance  and 
felt  the  presence  of  a  power  in  life  and  nature  "to 
chasten  and  subdue.''  At  such  a  time  he  sings: 

"Farewell,  thou  busy  World,  and  may 

We  never  meet  again ; 
Here  I  can  eat,  and  sleep  and  pray, 
And  do  more  good  in  one  short  day 
Than  he  who  his  whole  age  outwears 
Upon  thy  most  conspicuous  theatres, 
Where  nought  but  vice  and  vanity  do  reign. 

Good  God!  how  sweet  are  all  things  here! 
How  beautiful  the  fields  appear! 
How  cleanly  do  we  feed  and  lie! 
Lord!  what  good  hours  do  we  keep! 

How  quietly  we  sleep! 
What  peace !  what  unanimity ! 
How  innocent  from  the  lewd  fashion 
Is  all  our  business,  all  our  conversation! 

Oh,  how  happy  here's  our  leisure ! 
Oh,  how  innocent  our  pleasure ! 


NATURE  AND  MEDITATION  119 

Oh,  ye  valleys,  oh,  ye  mountains, 
Oh,  ye  groves  and  crystal  fountains, 

How  I  love  at  liberty 
By  turn  to  come  and  visit  ye ! 

0,  Solitude,  the  soul's  best  friend, 

That  Man  acquainted  with  himself  dost  make, 

And  all  his  Maker's  wonders  to  intend; 

With  thee  I  here  converse  at  will, 

And  would  be  glad  to  do  so  still ; 

For  it  is  thou  alone  that  keep'st  the  soul  awake. " 

It  is  by  this  poem,  representing  him  at  his  best, 
that  we  choose  to  remember  Cotton,  agreeing  with 
Walton  that  it  cannot  fail  to  make  any  ' 1  reader  that 
is  blest  with  a  generous  soul"  love  him  the  better. 
The  clean  vigor  and  firm  simplicity  of  the  lines  en- 
sure their  own  appreciation. 


INDEX 

A. 

Agincourt,  8. 

Alliteration,  21. 

Anacreontic,  An,  56. 

Angler,  The  Complete,  first  part,  1,  3,  51-52;  second  part,  12-14,  19, 

51-55. 

Antithesis,  Cotton's  use  of,  74,  86. 
Amoret  in  Masquerade,  86. 
Ardglass,  Countess  Dowager  of   (Cotton's  second  wife),  48,  51,  60. 


Bacchic  Ode,  95. 

Balzac,  76. 

Bancroft,  Thomas,   19. 

Barnfield,  103. 

Barrowashe   (estate),  27. 

Beaumont,  6. 

Benserade,  83-84. 

Bentley  Hall,  9,  27. 

Beresford  (Hall,  and  estate),  8;  description  of,  12-16,  17,  27,  41,  43, 

47,  51,  59. 
Beresford,  Edward   (great-great-grandfather  of  poet),  9. 

,  Olivia   (great-grandmother),  9. 

,  Thomas,  hero  of  Agincourt,  9. 

,  Humphrey,  son  of  Thomas,  9. 

Beresfords,  the  Irish,  Earls  of  Tyrone,  Marquises  of  Waterford,  9. 

Berkeley,  Lord,  40. 

Bertaut,  72-76,  88. 

Blaise  de  Montluc,  Mareschal  of  France,  the  Commentaries  of,  46. 

Bradshaw,  epistle  to  John,  16,  32,  40,  47,  56,  82,  93. 

Breton,  103. 

Brome,  Alexander,  6;  epode  addressed  to,  29. 

,  Henry,  45,  47. 

,  Richard,  19. 

Bullen,  Mr.  A.  H.,  18,  110,  116. 
Burlesque,  3,  4,  29,  30,  33,  51,  57,  65. 
Burlesque  upon  Burlesque,  51. 
Burns,  Robert,  1. 
Butler,  Samuel,  30. 

121 


122  INDEX 

c. 

Calendar  of  State  Papers   (1675),  50. 

Carew,  Thomas,  7,  67-72. 

Carey,  Patrick,  87. 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  107. 

Chanson  a  Boire,  95. 

Charles  II,  28. 

Chesterfield,  Earl  of,  39,  40. 

Clarendon,  Lord,  7. 

Classical  imagry,  80,  89,  106. 

Clepsydra,  95. 

Clifton,  Sir  Clifford,  32,  36-39. 

Coelia's  Ague,  84. 

Coelia's  Fall,  97. 

Cokaine,  Sir  Aston,  6,  17,  18,  19,  27. 

Coleridge,  1. 

Collection  of  Diverting  Sayings,  Stories,  Characters,  etc.,  58. 

Come,  let  us  drink  away  the  time,  95. 

Come,  live  with  me  and  be  my  love   (Marlowe),  20,  101. 

Complete  Gamester,  the,  45. 

Contentment,  56. 

Conceit,  use  of  the,  65-66. 

Contentation,   115. 

Corneille,  45. 

Coterie  poets,  83-88. 

Cotton,  Sir  Richard   (great-grandfather),  4. 

,  Sir  George    (grandfather),  5. 

,  Charles,  Esq.    (father),  5,  6,  7,  18;  death  of,  27. 

,  Charles,  the  poet,   appreciators  among  the  poets,   1-3;    rea- 
sons for  neglect  of  him   in  his   own   day,   3-4;    ancestry,   4-9; 
traditions  of  his   family,  9-12;    birth   of,    10;    ancestral   estate, 
12-16;  early  education,   17-19;   death  of  mother,  17;   first  pub- 
lished verses,   19-23;   love  affair  and  marriage,  23-27;   politics, 
28;  beginning  of  burlesque  writing,  29-30;  financial  difficulties, 
30-32,    34-39;    reputation    for    intemperance,    32-34;    military 
service,  39-40;   death  of  wife,  41;   "voyage"  to  Ireland,  43-44; 
hack-work,    45-46 ;    marriage   to   Countess    of   Ardglass,    48-50 ; 
publication   of    "Second   Part"   of    "Angler,"    51;    friendship   of 
Walton   and   Cotton,   52-56;    death   of  Cotton,   57-60;    adminis- 
tration of  effects,  60;  his  children,  60;  political  purpose  of  cer- 
tain   of   his    works,   60-62;    publication    of   "Poems   on    Several 
Occasions,"  64;  native  influences  upon  his  poetry,  65-72;  French 
influence,    72-100;    his    poetry   of    nature,    101-114;    poetry   of 
meditation,  114-119. 
Beresford   (son),  60. 
Olive   (daughter),  60. 
Catherine    (daughter),  60. 
Jane    (daughter),  60. 
Mary    (daughter),  60. 
Stanhope   (grandson),  60. 

"Cotton's  Hole,"  16. 

Country  Life,  The   (Racan),  97. 


INDEX  123 

Cromwell,  Oliver,  29,  61,  109. 
Cynicism,  absence  of  in  Cotton,  67. 

D. 

Darby  shire,  John,  11. 

,  Anne,  11. 

Davenant,  Sir  William,  6,  47,  70. 

D'Avila,  19,  42. 

Day  is  Set  did  Earth  Adorn,  The,  95. 

Denham,  Sir  John,  4,  19. 

De  Mirabilibus  Peed  (Hobbes),  56. 

Desportes,  72-76,  77,  88. 

Dobson,  Austin,  87. 

Donne,  7;  Walton's  Life  of,  46,  114. 

E. 

Eclogue,  Damon  C.  0.  Thyrsis  R.  R.,  22. 

Elegy,  81. 

Elizabeth,  Duchess  of  Devonshire,  57. 

Elizabeth,  Queen,  5. 

Elizabethan  lyrists,  103. 

Entertainment  to  Phillis,  The,  20. 

Epigram,  use  of,  82. 

Epigramme,  Writ  in  Calista's  Prayerbook   (Malherbe),  76. 

Espernon,  Duke  of,  preface  to  translation,  34,  35,  41,  42,  62. 

Estrennes  to  Calista,  24,  71. 

Expostulation,  The,  79. 

F. 

Fair  One  of  Tunis,  46. 

Fanshaw,  Sir  Richard,  61. 

Farewell  to  the  Vanities  of  the  World,  114. 

Fenny  Bentley  (estate),  8. 

Ferrers,  John,  62. 

Fishing  house,  the,  13,  14,  52. 

Flatman,  Thomas,  46. 

Fletcher,  6. 

France,  Cotton's  trip  to,  25,  27,  72. 

French  lyrists,  influence  of,  27,  65,  72-100. 

a 

Glapthorne,  Henry,  6. 

Gilbert,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  42. 

Good  Counsel  to  a  Young  Maid  (Carew),  69. 

Gondibert,  6,  70. 

Gosse,  Edmund,  87. 

H. 

Hastings,  Lord,  19. 

Hedonism,  of  Cotton  and  Carew,  67-72;  of  Keats,  103. 


124  INDEX 

Her  Hair,  84. 

Her  Name,  84. 

Herrick,  5,  18,  19,   103. 

Her  Sigh,  84-85. 

His  Amours,  74-75. 

Hippolytus   (Seneca),  translation  of,  20. 

History  of  England   (Macaulay),  19. 

Horatius   (Corneille),  translation  of,  45. 

Hutchinson,  Isabella  (wife  of  Cotton),  23,  25;  death  of,  41. 

,  Sir  Thomas    (father  of  Isabella),  23. 

,  Catherine    (mother),  23. 

,  Mrs.  Stanhope,  45. 

Hume,  Alexander,  104. 


Idealism  of  Cotton,  72. 

Illative  method  of  arrangement,  in  Cotton  and  Malherbe,  81. 

Ingram,  Sir  Thomas,  34. 

Ireland,  voyage  to,  43. 

J. 

Join  once  again,  my  Celia,  join,  65. 
Jonson,  Ben,  6. 
Joys  of  Marriage,  The,  28,  82. 
Julleville,  88. 


Keats,  103. 


Lachrymae  Musarum   (Richard  Brome),  19. 

Lamb,  Charles,  2,  114. 

Laura  Sleeping,  21,  69. 

Laura  Weeping,  21. 

Lee,  Mr.  Sidney,  74. 

Litany,  The,  28. 

Lives   (Walton),  3,  53. 

Love,  Cotton's  poetical  attitude  toward,  67-72. 

Lovelace,  5. 

Love's  Triumph,  66. 

Lowell,  2,  3,  116. 


Macaulay,  19. 

Marlowe,  20,  101. 

Malherbe,  27,  75-82,  87,  88,  90. 

Mandeville,  Lord,  40. 

Marvell,  Andrew,  4,  19. 

Masson,  108. 

Maynard,  82,  83,  88. 


INDEX  125 

Mediocrity  in  Love  Rejected   (Carew),  69. 

Memoirs  of  Monsieur  de  Pontis,  etc.,  60. 

"Metaphysical  School,"  65,  66. 

Milton,  4;  Masson's  Life  of,   108,  117. 

Monmouth,  Duke  of,  40. 

Montaigne,  1,  3,  57,  62. 

Moral   Philosophy    of    the   Stoics    (Du    Voix),    Cotton's    translation 

of,  62. 

Montr oss,  21. 
Musarum  Delicice   (Mennis  and  Smith),  30. 

N. 

Natural  History  of  Staffordshire  (Plat.),  59. 
New  Year,  The,  2,  80. 
Notes  and  Queries,  45. 


Occasional  Poems,  20. 

Ode,  82. 

Old  Tityrus  to  Eugenia,  69. 


0. 


P. 


Paradox,  use  of,  74. 

Pastor  Fido,  61. 

Pepys,  Samuel,  30,  33,  40. 

Persuasions  to  Love   (Carew),  68. 

Pike  Pool,  15. 

Piscator,  12,  13,  14,  15,  53-55. 

Platonism,  absence  of  in  Cotton's  poetry,  24,  67,  71 ;  imitation  of,  85. 

Pleiade,  The,  87. 

Poems  of  Diverse  Sorts   (Sir  Aston  Cokaine),  18. 

Poems  on  Several  Occasions,  1,  64,  65. 

Poverty,  47,  56. 

Prayer  to  the  Wind,  A   (Carew),  69. 

Prestwick,  Edwin,  20. 

Q. 

Quatrains,  Evening,  104. 


-,  Night,  104. 

-,  Summer  Day,  27,  80,  103,   104,  107,  117. 


R. 

Racan,  Honorat,  27,  80,  88. 
Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  114. 
Rambouillet,  Madame  de,  83. 

,  Hotel  de,  83. 

Rawson,  Ralph   (Cotton's  tutor),  22. 
Realism,  in  Cotton,  24,  67,  69. 
Re"gnier,  88. 


126  INDEX 

Restoration,  the,  28,  62. 

Retirement,  The,  12,  16,  52,  56,  65,  80,  98,  118. 

Retreat,  The,  25. 

Ronsard,  88. 

Ronsardists,  the,  72-76,  87. 

Russell,  Sir  William   (father  of  the  Countess  of  Ardglass),  48. 


Savile,  George,  Marquis  of  Halifax,  57,  59. 

Scarronides,  or  the  first  book  of  Virgil  Travestie,  29,  30,  39,  43. 

Schelling,  Professor  Felix  E.,  4. 

Selden,  7. 

Separation,  The,  23. 

Seventeenth  Century  Lyrics   (Schelling),  4. 

Sheerness,  burning  of,  by  Dutch,  39. 

Shelley,  113. 

Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  8. 

Simplicity,  of  Cotton  and  Malherbe,  80,  81  j  of  Theophile,  89. 

Song  of  Montr oss,  21. 

Sonnet,  How  shouldst  thou  love  and  not  offendf  69. 

Spenser,  74. 

Stanhope,  Olive  Beresford   (grandmother),  9. 

,  Olive    (mother),  9. 

,  Sir  John   (grandfather),  8,  10,  11. 

,  Sir   John,    of   Elvaston    (grandfather   of    Isabella   Hutchin- 

son),  23. 
Storm,  The,  112. 

T. 

Tempest,  The,  69. 

Tixall  Library,  34. 

To  Chloris,  69,  95. 

To  Coelia,  68,  75,  82. 

To  Cupid,  84,  86. 

To  her  absence,  A  ship    (Carew),  69. 

To  Isabel,  69. 

To  my  Friend,  Mr.  Lely,  69. 

To  the  Painter   (Carew),  69. 

Translations,  by  Cotton,  65. 

V. 

Valediction,  A,  84,  85. 

Vaughn,  Chief  Justice,  7. 

Vers  de  Societe,  83-88. 

Viator,  12,  13,  14,  15,  54. 

Viaud,  Theophile  de,  27,  80,  88-94. 

Virelai,  65,  86,  87. 

Virgil  Travesty,  the,  first  book,  1,  3,  29;  fourth  book,  43. 

Voiture,  27,  83-88. 

Voyage  to  Ireland  in  Burlesque,  32,  33,  43-45. 


INDEX  127 

w. 

Wake,  Mr.  H.  F.,  34. 

Waller,  4,  29. 

Wallis,  Mr.  Alfred,  45. 

Walton,  Isaak,   1,  3,  7,  8,   13,   14,   18,  46,  51-55,  80,   119;   lines  to, 

56,  93,  118. 
Winter,  Ode  to  (Cotton),  27,  62,  73,  107-112,  117. 

,  Shakespeare's,   103. 

Wonders  of  the  Peak,  56. 
Wordsworth,  1,  2,  3,  27,  80,  111. 
World,  The,  47,  55. 
Wotton,  Sir  Henry,  114. 


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